


Bear Witness My Existence

by jg82



Series: Time After Time [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Swan Queen - Freeform, non Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-01-25 05:30:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 34,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12524068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jg82/pseuds/jg82
Summary: The air about them still reeked of magic. There were faint glittering shards of it scattered across the barn floor, remnants--Regina prayed--of the portal, and not Emma herself.





	1. Did She Run Away?

**Author's Note:**

> And so Regina's story begins <3.
> 
> This picks up right after my previous story "Break That Way". If you have not read it yet, I would suggest doing so before starting this.
> 
> We may see some familiar elements from events that have transpired season 4b and onward, but this is mainly going to be non-canon.
> 
> I hope you enjoy :).

     That’s where they found her.

     Minutes...

     Perhaps hours...

     Later.

     Robin reached her first, stricken by the sight of her folded in on herself.

     “Regina,” he called out, voice tainted with panic and a whine of relief. “What happened? Are you alright?” 

     She’d been quietly going numb until that point, caught in a loop of Emma’s last words, and her very visceral departure. The sensation of his hands upon her burned like fire on her cold clammy skin.

     She pulled away, tucking into her body even more.

_      ‘I love you.’ _

_      Why? _

_      Why did she....? _

     “Mom,” Henry called, voice cracking as he knelt down to be level with her. “Are you alright? What happened? Where’s Ma?”

     In her peripheral she could see David and Snow walking around the barn, their faces darkening with trepidation.

     “Mom,” Henry tried again, reaching hesitantly for her.

     The gentle touch of his fingers on her cheek is what snapped her out of her frozen state.

     A sharp keening sound echoing up out of her chest, eyes widening, frantic, she reached for her son and wrapped herself around him, burying her face into the crook of his neck.

     He smelled like home.

     Like Granny’s where they had just been.

     And... _ Emma _ .

_      ‘I love you.’ _

     “Regina,” Snow asked, her voice trembling. “Regina, where is my daughter? What happened here?”

     She knew if she looked at Snow the answer would be written all over her face. The terror, the heartache of the entire event seared upon her. Shamelessly, she used Henry as a shield, replying in a devastatingly weak voice, “Gone.”

     “Gone,” Henry gasped, and she dug her fingers into him a bit more, clinging like a lifeline. “Di-did she run away?”

     She shook her head.

     No.

     That would have been much easier than this.

     “Regina,” David’s voice was thick, demanding like any father’s would, “What happened? Did the...did the portal open?”

     She thought for sure she would be all out of tears by now, but at the mention of it all, she could feel them trickling down her stinging cheeks into Henry’s coat. Her throat, chest--hell, her entire damn body--was wound too tight for her to answer.

     But her silence was revealing enough.

     She heard a sob break from Snow, felt Robin tentatively rest a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, and allowed Henry to anchor himself firmly against her. The air about them still reeked of magic. There were faint glittering shards of it scattered across the barn floor, remnants--Regina prayed--of the portal, and not Emma herself.

_      ‘I love you.’ _

_       Why? _

_      Why now? _

_      Why this way? _

     She had been happy, dammit.

     THEY could have been happy!

_      Why didn’t she just stay? _

     “We’ll get her back,” David swore, voice wavering but his body growing tense in determination. “We’ll figure out what happened, and we’ll get her back.” His blue eyes bounced around them, coming to rest eventually on her. “Emma  _ will _ come home.”

     Sniffling, Regina lifted her head just enough to meet his gaze, and felt a dark coil in her flicker like a struck match. Her magic, which had felt useless and drowned out, suddenly reared like a hydra being summoned from the grave.

     “Yes,” she agreed, her entire being starting to thrum with that familiar twisted resolve. “We will.”

     Because no one took something from her without paying for it.

     No one.

     Not even Emma Swan.


	2. I Got A Fear, Oh, In My Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy weekend all, I hope you are well :).

     Rumpel was startled when the air in the Sheriff’s station suddenly expanded, growing dense--thick like a choking sightless vapor. Stiffening, he turned from Zelena’s cell, her remains--thankfully--scattered to the winds, in time to watch Regina and the White lot appear in a lavender magical cloud just feet away.

     “Where is she,” the visibly emotional brunette demanded, advancing on him in chilling semblance of her former moniker. “Why are you here? Where is my sister?”

     “Gone,” he answered honestly evasive. “I sensed something was amiss and popped in just before your arrival.”

     Her blazing--uncharacteristically reddened eyes--narrowed, and Rumpel was keenly aware of the dark emotions seeping from his former apprentice. She wasn’t buying his words, distrust and building rage emanating like magical vipers waiting for a reason to strike.

     “Why,” he countered, shifting his gaze to the restless quartet behind her. “What’s occurred?”

     “The portal opened,” Henry volunteered, eyeing his mother with concern, her hands notably flexing like she was seconds from strangling someone or burning the building down.

     “That’s not possible,” Rumpel dismissed, distancing himself from Regina. “Zelena was never able to complete the spell, it would have no reason to animate on its own.”

     “Yet it did,” Regina argued, wild eyes fluttering around Zelena’s empty cell in want of answers. “And in the process,” she paused, drawing in a shaky breath, “it took Miss Swan.”

     “Portals are not living vessels,” Rumpel reminded her, many past lessons between them on such things passing through his jumbled mind. “They can only do as is willed of them.”

     Dread was beginning to pool within him.

_Was she right?_

_If so, what did that mean then?_

     Robin Hood, Henry, David Nolan and Mary Margaret all shifted their disturbed gazes to Regina, unaware--it seemed--of that fact.

     Lip curling in a sneer, the older woman met their gazes briefly before turning and glaring at him.

     “Fine,” she conceded, “Emma made an idiotic choice and is now lost...” she gestured wildly, “to Gods know where. The point,” she stressed, moving towards him once more like a predator sensing deceit, “is that we need to find out how.” She swung an agitated hand out to the bars behind them. “Where. Is. My. Sister?”

     Shoulders squaring, hackles raised, he met her suspicion head on. “As I said, gone.”

     “She was missing when you got here,” inquired Prince Charming.

     Rumpel had to resist rolling his eyes at the unsettled father.

     “Yes,” he hissed, feeling like a trapped animal.

     “Then we need to check the security tapes,” said Snow White, moving towards Sheriff Swan’s office.

     He had to clench his teeth and remain as motionless as possible lest Regina saw his concerns dawning within. So caught up was he in his grief and anger, that he had forgotten about such things. No doubt, if allowed to proceed, they would find the truth of his actions, and Zelena’s whereabouts.

     Magic was too risky to chance in erasing the evidence of his crime. The Queen would sense it instantly.

     “I suspect,” he pondered loudly, drawing everyone’s attention, “if the portal did indeed open, then Zelena may very well have had an _effugere_ in place.”

     “A what,” asked Henry, brows drawn in question.

     “An effugere,” repeated his mother, eyes shifting uncertainly between him and the Charmings. “It’s an escape plan that one tethers into a magical task should they need it.”

     “One could assume,” Rumpel reasoned, “Zelena made sure that, should the portal ever reopen, she would instantly be drawn back to it.” He glanced at Regina. “Magical blockers aside.”

     “So she got what she wanted after all,” Prince Charming queried, anger and hurt coloring his rising tone.

     “No,” Regina assured him. “The effugere is a simple designated action that returns you to a safe point.”

     “Like in a video game,” Henry realized, pieces clicking into place for him.

     “Yes, like in your video games,” the brunette replied. Sighing, looking around the station once more in thought, she added, “If Zelena was indeed pulled back to an effugere, it would undoubtedly return her to a particular previous juncture. The question is...” she trailed off, lost in her ruminations.

     “Where,” Robin, concluded, biting his lower lip in consternation.

     Regina nodded, eyes sparkling in a way Rumpel hadn’t seen since she was a young broken girl in need of guidance.

_How curious._

     “It’s not just a place, is it,” Snow White asked, awareness of the growing situation pushing her hopes down.

     Rumpel shook his head. “Normally yes, but with Zelana, it’s unlikely.”

     “So Sheriff Swan, and the Wicked Witch,” Robin began to voice, “could be cast, not just _somewhere_ , but at some... _moment_ , in time?”  

     “Yes,” Rumpel replied. “IF, by chance, they were sent off together.”

     “And if they weren’t,” Regina probed.

     And Rumpel wondered... _w_ _hy?_

     She knew the answer. There was no reason to have him reveal it.

     Eyes meeting, he saw flames licking at brown orbs, and resigned himself to bearing unpleasant truths.

     “Then you will have to decide, your Majesty, who you wish to find first? Miss Swan? Or your sister?”

     He hopes, for his sake, that she chooses the prior.

     He has no doubt, if Zelena was--by some miracle--still alive, then they were going to be at odds once more.

     Violently, tragically, so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was surprised to find myself writing from Rumpel's perspective. But with him being the guilty party behind the main reason why the portal opened in the first place, it felt natural to go with his interpretation of things. He is also, aside from Snow White, Emma, and Henry, the only one to really get Regina's behavior. He's seen her progression over time, and he's never forgotten about the young naive girl he met a lifetime ago.


	3. Just The Same Old Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two posts in one day! Woo!
> 
> :)

     He was lying.

     She knew it.

     Could smell the coward in him prevaricating. 

_      Punish him! Pin him to the wall and hurt him like he deserves _ , whispered a dark arousing timber in her mind.

     Tempting her.

     Flushing her with barely repressed needs.

_      ‘I love you.’ _

     Growling at the conflict ripping her apart, Regina turned and stormed out of the station, barking, “I need a minute,” when Snow and Robin moved to follow her.

 

     In the haste of her departure, she failed to see the satisfying smile curling at the corner of Rumpel’s lips--a mere twitch of his finger disrupting the footage Charming was just bringing up to show nothing but static.

 

     Letting the door slam shut behind her, Regina raised her weary eyes to the sky, arms wrapping tightly around herself.

_      Why? _

_      Why, why, why, why, WHY? _

     “You idiot,” she rasped to the night air, chest constricting. “You couldn’t have..” she choked, trying to swallow around the words stuck in her throat.

     “Don’t you  _ think _ ,” she asked instead. “Don’t you consider anyone else when you do stupid things like this?” She gestured towards the building behind her. “What about Henry? Your idiotic parents? Charming junior? Aren’t they,” she demanded, “more important?”

_      Than me? _

     When only the low rustling of leaves answered her, she buried her face in her hands and suppressed the sob trying to rise up out. She had just gotten her heart back, retrieved by being--successfully so--the hero for once. She was reunited--yet again--with her son, whom she loved more than life itself. She had a Soulmate--a love finally destined for her.

     But it all tasted like ash in her mouth.

     Zelena, in her disturbed wisdom, had been smart enough to outwit them. Like herself, she had created a fail safe. But, unlike Regina--who had almost destroyed them all--she had managed to just take out the Savior, shattering a fragile family trying to heal.

     It took a handful of heartbeats, and a very deep breath, before she was able to face one of the other truths circling in her mind.

     “Why didn’t you say it earlier,” she pleaded to the twilight. “Why did you leave me to face it alone?”

     Because Emma Swan loving her?

     Was terrifyingly....hopeful.

     And Regina hated herself for it.

     Hated Emma for opening up a door between them that had always been partially closed.

     The attraction they shared was palpable. Even Snow White could easily detect it. But she had never considered Emma in a more...romantic light, until after the curse broke.

     Then they had both made some rather foolish mistakes.

     And Neal Cassidy returned to Emma’s life.

     Along with Hook’s interest in the blond blooming into existence.

     Suddenly she didn’t feel up to par anymore.

     Who was she to compete against Henry’s father?

     And Hook?

     Well, he wasn’t any sort of competition in her mind, but Emma seemed to like keeping him nearby, and Regina didn’t understand why the woman did so. She couldn’t wrap her brain around Emma’s constant insistence and defense of him.

     So.

     When Robin came along...well...who was she deny herself a real chance at happiness? 

     Does he know her like Emma does? No. Does he drive her, spark passions in her that border on hedonistic?......He doesn’t need to. Feelings like that are not necessary for them to have a good relationship.

_      ‘I love you.’ _

     Closing her eyes, her heart pulsing at the words that refuse to escape her, she cursed, “Damn you, Emma Swan.” Torn, gut wrenched. “Damn you.”

 

*****

 

     Robin stood inside the shadows of the hallway just beyond the door Regina paced in front of. He could hear her muffled words and emotional outbursts, his body shifting anxiously with the need to go out and comfort her.

     But she had asked for space, and this time he was respecting her need of it.

     He himself was feeling...conflicted.

     He didn’t know Sheriff Swan well. He had heard talk about her being a Savior, a rare magical product of true love. He knew she was Henry’s birth mother, and Regina’s...well...that was what he was suddenly unclear about.

     He had perceived them to be friends.

     Regina had hesitantly suggested as much. Going so far, even, to tentatively call the blond family.

     But what he was witnessing, what he had heard the brunette he was rapidly growing to care deeply about, cry out,...seemed a bit more than that.

_      Was it possible? _

     Had Regina and Emma, at some point between rivals and friends, become...lovers?

     It didn’t seem so.

     But the emotions...the emotions obviously exist between them.

     A heavy sigh dragging his shoulders down, Robin took another moment to consider the volatile Queen, then silently turned and walked back towards the others, his mind and heart heavy with thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. It's about time Regina at least admitted to herself the potential her and Emma had, even if I agree that Emma's revelation was a tad, annoyingly so, late. 
> 
> Fuck you Rumpel, you opportunistic bastard. I love writing you.
> 
> Robin. Sigh. I'm not sure how to feel about you. I mean, you got potential, but do you measure up to Emma Swan?
> 
> If you have never heard "Same Old Blues" by Phantogram, you absolutely should.


	4. Hurt For Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regina's not the only one falling apart.

     Henry didn’t get it.

_      Why would Emma...? _

     His mom said she had made a choice?

     Like...her...or both of them had been in danger? And Emma had...what... _sacrificed_ herself?

     The thought made his heart clench.

     Tears filling his eyes, threatening to spill, Robin Hood returned, absent his mother’s presence.  

      _This is all my fault._

     Emma, his Ma, was still living up to his expectations.

     Still being the hero.

     No matter the cost.

     “I should never have brought her here,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around himself, sniffling, trying to push back his heartache, shame flooding him.

     “What,” Snow questioned, brow drawn. “Oh, Henry, no.” She moved towards him, reaching out, gripping him gently by the shoulder. “Never think that, honey.”

     “Emma would be here right now if it wasn’t for me,” he argued, pulling away, his voice rising. “Everything that has happened in the last three years, my dad dying, all of us being separated. You,” he gestured towards Charming, “dying and having to split your heart. It’s all MY fault!”

     The newborn in Snow’s arms cried out, and Henry winced at the shrillness of it, his head hanging, his insides twisting like he was caged within his body desperate to get out.

     “What the hell is going on here,” he heard his mother demand as she finally returned.

     Cowering further into himself, feeling so small and weak, Henry sensed her immediate approach, but resisted her comforting touch until she gave him a firm tug and spun him around.

     “Henry Daniel Mills,” she rasped, eyes bloodshot, voice shaky, “Look at me,” she pleaded, “Tell me what is wrong?”

     “It’s all my fault,” he replied, head rocking back and forth. “I brought Ma here. I convinced her she was responsible for everyone’s happy ending, and,” his words broke, tumbling out of him in a sob. “And now she’s gone.” She had to understand. Couldn’t she see? “We lost Emma because of me!”

     “No.” His mother shook her head, pulling him towards her, gripping him by his biceps tightly. “No, you are NOT responsible for this, Henry.” She forced him to lock gazes with her, the pain in her eyes unbearably visible. “Do you hear me?” 

     He tried to rebuke her, opening his mouth, attempting to pull back, but she held on tightly, face hardening in fury.

     “Emma.” she spat with mixed affection and hate--a tone he had heard often over the years, “made a choice. Understood?” He didn’t want to. “Henry! Do you understand?”

     The question was a bit more hysteric, his mother going wild once more.

     But he couldn’t say yes.

     He just couldn’t.

     Without warning, he was yanked forward, swarmed by his mother’s bone crushing arms as she wrapped herself around him, pressing her lips to his ear.

     “I love you Henry,” she expressed vehemently. “So does Emma. She made a choice,” repeated for the third time, “to save me, to save us all.” A strangled hiccup flexed against his throat where his mother’s pressed against him. “And we’re going to bring her back. Because that’s what this family does. It’s what we were born to do.”

     Nodding, he caved to her, letting his head rest upon her shoulder, taking his turn to fall apart within her.

     They had been so close to being happy.

     So close.

     Why did it always have to go wrong?


	5. I Can Take Bullets to the Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short but necessary perspective

     Hook stormed down the street, head whipping about every time he heard something rustling in the breeze.

     He had been left behind at the diner when the others had realized Emma and Regina had been gone for quite awhile. At first, he had chalked their lengthy absence to another fight, one of innumerable he had witnessed between them, but then the small family hadn’t returned either, and he began to fear the worst.

     Had Swan run off back to New York in a fit of anger?

     Had he pushed her too far in addressing her desire to flee openly?

     Or had something else, altogether, transpired?

     He didn’t have one of those little...talking...boxes...the others possessed to keep in contact with one another. And, loath to admit it as he was, they weren’t exactly keen on keeping him in the loop. Understandably so.

     He wasn’t an idiot.

     He understood his presence was unwelcome.

     But he cared for Emma, he truly did, and he wanted...needed....well, it just seemed right to do what he could for her and her boy.

     He was beginning to grasp that his feelings were one sided, even though Emma had sacrificed her magic to save his life. He had noticed a pattern with her--a withdrawal of affection, and then an impulsive need stated in a dire moment. It left his head spinning.

     Which part of her actions were true?

     And which were just a wall? A defensive measure?

     One would think it was her dismissiveness...

     ...But he suspected it was the opposite.

     Like him, Emma did, and said, whatever was necessary to achieve her desired end result.

     She didn’t think about the consequences. 

     She also, likely, didn’t really care either.

     Sighing, Hook spotted the building he was looking for in the distance, and was disturbed to see Regina outside ranting to the wind.

     Her entire being projected enraged distress. 

     It was chilling to witness, and he paused in his trek.

     He had never seen the Queen so undone except where young Henry was concerned, and Hook’s heart stuttered at the possibility of the boy being in trouble.

     Picking up his pace once more, he watched the volatile woman eventually enter the building, and braced himself for whatever he was about to find beyond heavy doors. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Hook's insight is fair. I mean, he did address it later on at one point in the show, and Emma and him are a lot alike--I think that's why there is such an appeal with him. But realistically, that kind of relationship is functional on the barest level at best. It's hardly healthy, or honest. Could it last? Certainly. But, like Regina and Robin, would it be fulfilling? I guess that depends upon how satisfied you wish to be in life.


	6. If You're Scared, I'm On My Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charming has some serious feels on all of this.

     David stared at the small security screen footage--nauseas and disheartened.

     There was nothing but static.

     The cameras had failed.

     Or, more likely, Zelena’s magic had disabled them.

     His baby girl was gone.

     Again.

     Would he ever get to hold her longer than a minute?

     Could they possess a single point in their life long enough to just be a family without tragedy and villains trying to pull them apart?

_      I am her father! _

_      What good have I done for her so far? _

     The slamming of the outer Station doors drew his attention from the useless screen. Regina had returned just minutes prior. That left only one person to be making their way towards them.

      Anger swelled within him.

     Outrage at the audacity the Pirate possessed in thinking he had a right to join them.

     Displeasure at Hook for being the one to chase Emma off in the first place.

_      Who the hell did he think he was to act out like a petulant child? _

     He turned towards the man, leaving the Sheriff’s office, ready to give him a piece of his mind...

     Until Regina beat him to it.

     “What the hell are you doing here,” she demanded, tone ferocious, pinning Hook with a stare that was every bit the Evil Queen.

     He approved.

     Instead of lashing back, however, Killian just stopped and eyed everyone--expression troubled--before asking, “What has happened? Where is Emma?”

     “Gone,” he cut in, striding forward to stand next to his wife who had flanked Regina and Henry. “She was taken by Zelena’s portal.”

     “Did you know about this,” Regina inquired, accusatory, gesturing to the empty cell nearby. “Did my sister tell you her little plan to escape while she was cursing your lips!”

     “No,” Hook shook his head, “Had she, I would have said.”

     Regina scoffed and he joined her, rolling his eyes at the claim.

     “Believe me,” the Pirate pleaded, “I never intended to cause anyone harm, especially not Emma.”

     Their disbelieving gazes narrowed on him, but his wife said, “Then help us. We’re going to get Emma back, and we’ll need all the help we can get.”

_      No, _ his mind screamed, wanting the no good Pirate as far away from his family as possible.

     The look he caught Regina giving Snow shouted the same.

     But his wife just met her stare head on, unwavering, asking her to ‘ _ think about Emma’ _ and not themselves.

     He sighed.

     Then straightened to his full height and puffed out his chest.

     Stepping forward, straight into Hook’s space, he forewarned him. “You get one chance. Screw us over, and I’ll cut you down where you stand.”

     Killian met his fury with a curt nod of understanding.

     Out of his peripheral, he saw Regina give him a nod of approbation.

     He would do anything for his daughter.

     They all would.

     Even a not so reformed Queen.


	7. Everyone I know Goes Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit from Snow's perspective.

     Snow listened intently as Regina asked Rumpel more about the behavior of portals, trying to figure out their first move.

     She clung to her newborn son, chest strained with radiating heartache.

_      Every time. _

_      Every time they reach towards their happy ending it’s yanked from them. _

_      When would she learn? _

     How did Charming inspire such hope in her when her entire life was a struggle in faith?

     The loss of her mother.

     Father.

     Regina--more than once.

     Friends, strangers, her people, her  _ kingdom _ .

     She lost it all.

     And her husband was the only one driving her forward.

     In spite of what people think, Snow is not a naturally optimistic person. All those hope speeches that she gives? Are because of David. HE has faith in her. In them. In everything...So she does too.

     She has to.

     Otherwise she wouldn’t have him here now.

     And she wouldn’t be so sure they will get Emma back.

     Snow’s never been that lucky in keeping people.

     And Emma has always been, in one form or another, lost to her.

     Beautiful.

     Strong.

     Confident.

     Compassionately idiotic, Emma.

     Her daughter is everything she ever could dream her children to be.

     But her walls...her years apart from them, her broken, troubled, life before they were reunited make her cautious and conflicted. Trust was almost non existent with her.

     The past year of separation only compounded it all.

     Emma was in survival mode.

     Doing what was needed of her, giving what she could, but keeping everyone at arm’s length. When Hook had muttered his smart aleck response, she had not been surprised in the least by the notion of Emma wanting to return to New York.

     She had sensed it from the beginning--the restlessness, the desire to go back to what she knew, what she thought she trusted the most...

     And Snow doesn’t blame her.

     Right now, she wishes she had.

     This way then, she would know exactly where Emma was at.

     Instead of wondering where she could be.


	8. Everything Is Closing In

     Rumpel’s answers were short and disinterested, the word _ impossible _ being tossed out far too freely.

     Regina wanted to strangle him, to rip his heart out and crush it just to feel something...anything....than this misery and heartache.

     But she had lived that way once before...and it gave her nothing.

     Robin had left to collect Roland, seeing him off to the Merry Men before eventually returning to her side. 

     Charming and Snow were pacing, their son as restless as them.

     Henry was watching her.

     Waiting.

     Needing.

_      Where to start....where to start...where to start... _

     “I need to go to my vault,” she suddenly exclaimed, voice as haggard as she no doubt looked. “I-,” she swallowed, throat tight with exhaustion, “I need to do some research.”

     “I’m going with you.”

     She knew he would say that.

     Her son.

     Lost somewhere between being the young boy he once was, and the man he was slowly becoming.

     She shook her head, sniffled, collecting her thoughts.

     “No. No I need you to go with your grandparents,” she replied, eyes imploring him to not resist her, “Just-,” she didn’t believe it, but she had to consider it, “just in case Emma suddenly reappears.” She met three sets of hopeful gazes. “You would be the first to know...if...”

     Henry nodded slowly.

     Snow took in a deep breath.

    Charming swallowed and sighed.

    They understood the  _ ‘if’. _

    Still...

     “As soon as you find anything--” he started to say.

     “You’ll be the first to know,” she repeated herself.

     Because, for once, she was with Snow on this.

     She needed them, and they needed her.

     Hook muttered something about walking the town, keeping his eyes out for Emma, believing he somehow had a bond with her that made him relevant.

     Regina didn’t think so.

     Not anymore than friendship, at least.

_      ‘I love you.’ _

     Taking a steadying breath, she spared Rumpel one last glare, then ushered them all out of the station, pausing just inside the hallway to take in the silence and absence at the Sheriff’s desk.

     There were so many memories here.

     So many pivotal interactions between her and Emma.

    The shadows of invading twilight ate away at the colors of the walls, the bunks, the chairs, and filing cabinets. Ugly greys and muted black began to shape her vision, staining her once vibrant world with dullness.

    Like the essence of life was being sucked away around her.

     Resisting the urge to cry yet again, she turned and made her way out of the brick building, back into the streets of Storybrooke, back into the cold, back into the oppressive sense of emptiness.

     Coming to a halt at the sidewalk, she watched as her family walked off, Henry looking her way once to wave goodbye before following his grandparents--their shoulders wearily hunched.

     Rumpel slithered away to who knows where.

     Hook stopped, as if to face her and say something, but seemed to rethink it, and carried onward instead--head hanging a little.

     Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, she continued the slow travel to her crypt, stride determined, heart and mind addled.

     What she was planning to do...What they were all intending to do, had never been done before. Yes, they had crossed realms, and time, but the price had been death, curses, and the rare sacrifice with resurrection. So much had already been lost.

     Emma was worth it.

     That wasn’t even in question.

     But how heavy of a price was she willing to let others pay?

     Charming had lost his life once already.

     Snow, half her heart.

     Henry...a stable childhood with mothers that loved him.

     Robin had a young son to think about with no other parental figure for support.

     And she...well....

     She had nothing left to lose but Henry, and what kind of life would they have without Emma?

     Once upon a time she had wanted the blond long go so she and her son could return to their first nine years of ignorant bliss.

     Now...

     There was no happiness without Emma Swan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out Ruelle's "Closing In" to get a sense of where Regina is at this moment. <3


	9. I'm Looking For You in the Folds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday folks!

     She pulled out every book she possessed on time travel and portals.

     It didn’t matter if it was historical, theoretical or fiction--she yanked it from her shelves and dropped the tomes onto her work station. The lack of dust floating up reminded her that, just days prior, she had these exact copies out--along with Emma--trying to find a way to stop her psychotic Sister’s scheme.

     The weight dragging her heart down bobbed in her gut--making it roll.

     Wetting dry lips, tired of breaking at each thought and sensation, she squared her shoulders, and opened the first book.

     Then the next.

     And the one after that.

     Until time passed and the words swam before her, blending, blurring, into distorted chaos that made no sense. 

     Frustrated, she yanked the pages out of their bindings and tossed them into a circle on the cool stone floor.

     Pacing, closing her eyes, drawing in calming--soothing--breaths to try and center herself, she paused in her tracks and raised her hands, summoning her magic.

     With practiced will, she twisted the pages--drawing the words from them in watery ink, until the black and coppery droplets slithered like worms within the sphere.

     Seeking, in her memory, for the right spell, she urged the newly formed amebas to find order amongst their chaos, demanding resolve.

     Seconds ticked by.

     Then they began to scrawl.

     A new, clustered, text forming with illumination before her.

     Eyes opening, a lilac haze surrounding her, she studied the merged script.

_      There has to be something here we missed...there has to be-- _

     Her breath caught.

     She read the lines again.

     And then once more.

     Her heart skipped a beat.

_      Was it..? How could she be sure...? _

     No.

     She had to trust the words.

     To  _ hope _ , that what she was seeing was true.

     Ears thumping, soul humming at the revealed possibilities, she whipped her hand right to left, quickly transferring the consolidated text onto a nearby piece of parchment, and gathered it--hands shaking with anticipation--into her jacket.

_      How did we miss it before? _

     It seemed so simple now.

     So obvious!

     A loud bang above her vault startled her, and Regina glared up at the stairs, body stiffening at the wary sense of intrusion.

     A long shadow, slowly descending, reached out towards her--freezing her in place.

     The hair on her body raised in alert.

     .........................................................

     Then it called out, hesitantly, to her.

    “Regina?”

     “Robin,” she sighed in relief, striding forward to meet him as he reached the last few steps. He startled, as if not expecting her, but offered her a half smile in greeting.

     “I thought I might find you here,” he glanced around, eyes a bit strained at the sights. “Not the most pleasant place, though, I must say.”

     Regina frowned at that.

_      What’s wrong with my vault? _

     But shrugged it off.

     “I found it,” she stated, stepping closer, pulling the papers from her coat.

     “Found it,” he queried, confused, eyes bouncing between the papers and her.

     “The way to Emma,” she exclaimed, lips twitching at the thought of the blonde--at the potential of getting her back.

     “Really,” his surprise irked her, but she could see genuine pride in his gaze as he met hers--hopeful. “You can do this? You can bring the Sheriff back?

     She hesitated in her adamance, mouth opening but words sticking.

     “I-I’m-,” she stuttered, conflict brewing in her chest.

     Yes. She could. She  _ knew _ she could.

     But...

     She drew a sharp breath in through her nose, reached out, and gently collected the pages back. “I believe so, yes” she murmured, feeling unexpectedly shy and insecure.

     Or exposed.

     Because this mattered to her.

     This wasn’t just her heart she had placed in his hands.

     This was...

     Well....

     As if sensing her unease, Robin raised his chin, gripping her right bicep warmly.

     “Then I believe you will,” he expressed, firm. Resolute. “You defeated your sister, and I have no doubt you can bring Miss Swan home.”

     His support overwhelmed her.

     It had been so long since someone else believed in her like this.

     Someone besides Henry.

     And Emma.

     “Robin,” she husked, meeting those crinkled sparkling blue eyes, trying to gather her thoughts and feelings surrounding him. “What I’m proposing to do, what I’m...risking...” she bit her lip nervously, “I can’t ask of you.” He frowned. She reached out, wrapping her fingers in the seams of his jacket. “ _ I _ ,” she stressed, wanting him to understand, “need to get Emma back.” She shook her head slowly, “Not you, not the Charmings, and not Henry. Me. Just,” she swallowed, throat thick, “just me.”

     ........

     “No.”

     A single word.

     Uttered defiance.

     ...........................

     Much like Emma would always do.

     .......................................................

     “No,” he repeated again, shaking his own head, body straightening to stand tall. “I can’t let you go this alone.”

     “But,” she started, trying to protest with reason.

     “I get what you’re saying,” he cut her off. “I do. And I respect your need to save...Emma  _ (she had never heard him utter her name before) _ like you do. But as your friend, as your...” he trailed off, and her brow drew down, realizing she wasn’t the only one unclear what he was to her at this moment. “As someone who cares for you,” he started again, “I simply must assist.” He gently coaxed her closer, their faces mere centimeters apart, his body chilled compared to her warmth. “Please,” he asked with a whisper, eyes conflicted, begging, “don’t go this alone.”

     He was afraid.

     She could taste it in the air between them.

     Feel it seeping out of him in waves.

_      Is it for me? _

_      For...us? _

_      For himself? _

     The smell of forest use to comfort her, bring her solace when she was on her horse as a child racing through the pines and the willows. It was one of the many things that had captured her attention about him. The way he just resonated familiarity and potential happiness.

     Now though....

     In this moment...

     Robin’s cozy presence was tainted by the scent of loss.

     And heartache.

     “Ok,” she relented, taking an uncomfortable step back, watching as his eyes dimmed in quiet understanding.

     He took a steadying breath in through his nose, body rising even as his shoulders slumped slightly.

     “Ok,” he echoed, determined.

     Turning, he started back up the steps, disappearing into the twilight above.

     Regina swallowed down the tears that wanted to spring forth, taking the stone staircase one booted heel at a time behind him.

     She had cried enough.

     They had a lost Swan to bring back to the fold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My heart aches for both of them. I've been Robin. I've been surprised by the prospect, and hope, of moving on after loss.
> 
> Only to find what you have just found wasn't meant for you. Not like that. Not in the way you desire most.
> 
> I think in this instance, Robin is now standing where Emma once was.
> 
> And Regina is on the brink of wondering...perhaps not who to choose...but of the prospects they both have to offer that will heal them all without leaving damaging bruises.


	10. And They Began To Wonder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of Snow today. I think the chapter title says it all :).

     “I think I found a way to get Emma back.”

     Those were the first words out of Regina’s mouth as Snow opened the door of her apartment to the brunette and Robin.

     Her chest swelled with hope, even as she noted the uncertainty and fear in the other woman’s eyes.

     “What is it,” she asked, ushering them in, keeping her voice low, her young son finally getting the chance to rest in his bassinet.

     “It’s..,” Regina hesitated, gaze darting to Henry and David leaving the living room couch to join them at the kitchen island. “Complicated,” she settled on, gently removing a set of papers from inside her coat. Eyeing the parchment with apprehension, she explained, “I had to extract the information from a number of my books, even then, I’m not entirely sure that what I’ve gathered is true...but,” she glanced up, whiskey orbs reaching out with a need Snow understood.

     “We have to have hope,” she said, slender hand stretching forward, squeezing Regina’s forearm like Emma had done so often of late.

     A watery smile and a nod was all the older woman could give in response.

     “So what do we have to do,” questioned Henry, trying to decipher the words before him, the language foreign, “What comes next?”

     Regina sighed, but her shoulders tensed.

     Snow instantly knew she wasn’t going to like the answer.

     “WE,” she stressed, meeting Henry’s gaze, “do nothing. I,” she met their inquiring faces, raising her hand to stop any protests, “am going to Rumple to verify that what I have here is real--much as I despise the notion of doing so.” Her troubled stare flickered to Robin. She drew in an unsteady breath. “Then I’m going after Emma.”

     “She won’t be alone,” assured the archer, placing his hand gently on Regina’s shoulder. “I’m going with her.”

     “And so am I,” chimed Charming, not surprising Snow in the least.

     “David,” her and Regina began to argue in unison.

     But he crossed his arms, shaking his head defiantly.

     “No, I’m going,” he insisted. “I have lost my daughter too many times. I can’t keep doing this,” he met her understanding gaze, “I can’t keep failing her.”

     “And I get that,” Regina replied softly, surprising them both. She met his riled blue eyes with pleading brown. “I do, David, I do. But you are needed here,” she nodded off towards where their son lay. “You’ve already made a valiant sacrifice for your family. Learn to accept when you’ve given enough.”

     “I don’t care what the price might be, you know that,” he contested anyway, leaning forward, bracing himself on the island with a tight knuckled grip.

     “I know,” her words still tender, “that’s why you are staying.”

     Then she drifted her gaze to Snow, her husband’s eyes following, and she saw David hesitate.

     Smelled his conflict.

     Felt their shared heart constrict with heartache.

     He sighed.

     Closed his eyes.

     Then bowed his head.

     Snow moved to stand with him, wrapping her arms around his middle from his side, resting her head lightly on his shoulder.

     “Have faith in me,” Regina implored, drawing his haunted gaze back up. “Trust,” she urged, even as her voice trembled, “that I can do this. That I can bring,” she swallowed heavily, “that I can bring Emma home.”

     The way her timber broke.

     The tears lingering in her red eyes.

     Snow began to wonder.

     She began to question.

     What had occurred between Emma and Regina before her daughter went through that portal?

     What had been said?

     What had been done?

     To make her once former step-mother visibly ache like the fragile princess she knew so very long ago. 


	11. And They Questioned Our Sin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A much longer chapter this time. And a revelation! From Rumple, no less.
> 
> Enjoy!

     Rumpel wanted to rest.

     He wanted peace.

     To be with his Belle, and just...breath.

     But the night had other plans for him.

     He’d barely slipped into bed when the door to their quaint home rattled with a forceful knock. Rolling his eyes, he waved his hand to silence the loud intrusion with magic, but Belle stepped out from the bathroom and peered at him curiously.

     “Who is that?”

     “Nobody,” he replied, dismissing her inquisitiveness. “Whatever it is, it can wait ‘till morning.”

     A blast of energy suddenly rattled the windows around them, startling the young woman--rumbling a growl out of his chest.

     “Answer it,” she asked of him, “or I will, Rumple.”

     Nostrils flaring at the warning--knowing Belle would become displeased with him if she found out the evening’s past events--he flung the covers off in agitation, stomped his way across the room and down the steps, his love just a footfall behind him.

     Yanking the front door open, he demanded with a sneer, “Leave! I want no part in whatever action you’ve decided to pursue.”

     But Regina met his hostility with a haughty raised chin and a resounding, “No.”

     She moved to push past him, intent on inviting herself--and the others from earlier--into his home. He raised an arm to stop her, the palm of his hand colliding hard with the door frame.

     But Belle pulled him back with a touch.

     The flair of victory in her eyes burned in his gut.

     He clenched his fingers tightly, resisting the urge to lash out.

     “What has happened,” asked his sweet princess, following the others as they collected around his dining room table. “Why are you here?”

     “Emma is missing,” Regina got straight to the point, raising her eyes from a set of papers she was drawing out from inside her jacket, “And we need to get her back.”

     “What,” Belle gasped, wide worried eyes seeking him out, asking silently,  _ ‘why didn’t you tell me?’. _

     “Zelena’s portal opened and pulled her in,” Charming explained, hands resting anxiously on a finely crafted chair that had never seen visitors--till now.

     “And I’ve already told you,” he interrupted them, arms crossing across his chest, “there is nothing to be done.” He met the White family’s troubled gazes. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he glanced fleetingly at Belle, “I truly am. But it is impossible to bring her back.”

     “Perhaps for you,” Regina countered, eyes narrowed, shoulders determined, “but not for me.” She raised the papers she was holding, gesturing them towards himself and Belle. “I compiled everything I have in my vault on portals and time travel.” Her stare flickered to his love, knowing she was more willing to listen than him. “I found a...passage, if you will, that I believe can do what we need to in order to bring Emma back.”

     He harrumphed, doubting her assertion.

     “You’re reaching for straws, dearie,” he replied, unwilling to entertain her notion any longer. “I suggest you let it go before you find yourself in a pickle far worse than Miss Swan’s.”

     “Rumple,” Belle chastised him.

     The same time Regina sneered, “You listen to me you deranged little Imp.”

     “Enough,” Henry barked, surprising them all.

     Gazes fixed on him, the lad fidgeted in place, but said, “Emma has been there for each and everyone of us.” Eyes, a mix of his mother and Baelfire, focused on him. “Even after the ways we have hurt her, intentional,” his gaze hardened, “or otherwise.” He let his words sink in for a moment, before addressing him directly. “If you won’t listen, if you won’t help for her, then do it for my dad. Do it,” he stressed, voice wavering, “for your son.”

     It was a low blow.

     He resented the boy instantly for using Bae against him.

     The unstable darkness churned in his veins--heart and mind torn with pain.

_      How dare he! _

_      Who did he think he was dealing with to try and manipulate him like that? _

_      What kind of cruel, twisted-- _

     Belle’s fingers found his fisted hands.

     Pulling him from his silent rage.

     Shifting, catching the understanding, the pleading, in her in big--loving--eyes, Rumple swallowed down his riled other half.

     This was his...family, after all.

     “Fine,” he gritted, moving towards Regina who stiffened warily as he approached. “Show me what you have.”

     She hesitated for a second before handing the scroll and pages over.

     He skimmed the collected words, the language so old that he had to search his memory for their translations before he could even start.

     “Exercise thee Magical Arts where four roads meet during depths and silence of  night--the temporal liminality awaits there,” he read aloud. “Place thy offerings, bare thyself to the righteous,” he glanced at his former pupil, “crouch on heels, stretch forth joined hands, and confess thy faults.” A knot began to form in his chest as he continued on. “If thy pardons asked are received, the six winged Seraph shall appear.” He heard a knowing hitch in breath come from Belle. “But be forewarned--once touched--thy eyes shall open, thy ears shall hear, thy tongue will know only truth,” his gaze wandered around the others gathered, his voice trailing the remaining text off, “thy wicked heart shall be torn, and thy mortal body shall crumble--then reborn with will of wisdom and a heart of word.”

     ...............................................................

     The grandfather clock near the base of his stairs ticked distinctly in the following silence. The air thick with uncertainty--or disturbed understanding--depending upon one’s knowledge of the archaic.

     “So what does that mean,” eventually asked Robin Hood, face pinched in thought. “What’s it spelling out?”

     Both himself and Regina resisted the instinct to answer right away.

     Belle, however, did not.

     “That a ritual sacrifice must be performed in order to open a doorway to travel between worlds,” she clarified, a tremble to her voice.

     “How did you come about this,” he asked the brunette beside him, studying her intently.

     “It’s an extraction from multiple texts,” she revealed, unwavering.

     “What kind of texts,” he questioned between clenched teeth, fingers digging into the parchment he was holding.

     “Multiple kinds,” she defended without detail, raising her chin once more. “It doesn’t matter exactly which ones, what is important,” she reached out and pried the papers from his shaking hands, “is if the passage is legitimate.” Their gazes met--master to student--caster to practitioner, witch to darkness. “So tell me, Rumpelstiltskin. Is it?”

_      No, _ his mind wanted him to scream.

     To deny its variability.

     But once more, Belle beat him in answering.

     “Yes,” she sighed, fingers twisting together with agitation, blue eyes bouncing anxiously between himself and the others. “Ba-Bae” she stuttered, catching his gaze apologetically, “Baelfire and myself found it, once before, when,” she tilted her head, eyes swimming with tears, “we were looking for a way to bring Rumple back.”

     “It’s a fool’s errand,” he reprimanded, waving it off it instantly. “The cost far outweighs the reward.”

     “Not for me,” Regina argued vehemently. “I’ll pay it,” her wild gaze seeking Belle’s, “whatever it may be.”

     He scoffed.

     The glare sent his way though, made him pause in thought.

     He knew that look.

     That haunted determined stare.

     He’d seen it many times over in their early years.

     It was hunger--a yearning for something, or someone, as the case had been often with her.

     “What did she say to you,” he asked unexpectedly, catching her and the others off guard.

     “What,” she rasped, face going tight, emotionless facade slipping into place.

     “Miss Swan,” he smelled a weak spot, an exposed nerve, “what did she saw to you before the portal took her?”

     Her entire being clenched with combative furry--spine straightening, chin going so high as to leave her no choice but to stare down at him.

     “None of your business,” she snarled, lip curling.

     Every bit the Evil Queen.

     “Enough.” Snow White cut into their discourse, mirroring her husband’s restlessness--hands caressing and flexing around the back of the chair in front of her. “All that’s important at this moment is knowing the price required to bring my daughter home.”

     A beat of silence.

     Then he responded.

     “The most potent kind. Life.” He met their conflicted gazes head on. “Though,” he reasoned for a moment, “ in this instance, we all have a bit to spare due to our personal debts with time.”

     “How so,” asked the archer his love once freed from his own castle.

     “Like magic, time comes with a penance,” he sighed. “The curse, in both instances, allowed us an escape from it, creating a balance due.”

     “That’s twenty nine years I will gladly pay back,” Regina asserted without pause.

     “That might not be enough,” he informed her. “You have no idea where she is, or if she is even in one piece.” He saw concern flicker over the faces of the others. “You could very well waste away in your search for her, leaving  _ your son _ parentless.”

     The reality of the endeavor before them pushed their head and shoulders down like an overpowering tidal wave.

     The risk was too much.

     A cost, in his mind, no one should reasonably bear.

     “Why are four required,” Regina questioned, head lifting slightly, looking right past him to Belle.

     His love glanced his way before licking her lips and clearing her throat.

     “To increase the chances of success,” she replied, her knowledge on the matter becoming exposed. “For best results, one would want experienced travelers and navigators to help transverse the multiple paths that may lay out before them.”

     “Like say...a three hundred year old Pirate,” pondered Henry, curious eyes darting between his surprised mother and Belle.

     His love nodded. “Considering...Hook’s...past, his debt with time is much more considerate.”

     “As is yours,” Regina reminded him suddenly, eyes narrowing. “Since you’re immortal, after all, you could pay the debt over and over again without conflict.” She chuckled darkly, whiskey orbs sparkling as if she just found a flaw to use against him. “A clever loophole if ever there was one.” The laughter stopped abruptly, her body going rigged in swelling furor. “No wonder you have no desire to help us, you selfish bastard!”

     He scowled at the accusation.

     Even if she wasn’t wrong.

     “Hook will help,” Henry affirmed, seeking his mother’s attention, breaking their conflict. “Even though I know you don’t like it, for Emma, he’ll do it.”

     The brunette frowned at the truth, fingers working over the papers in hand with contention.

     “What about Zelena,” Belle asked innocently, blue eyes bouncing between the faces surrounding her. “It’s her portal, perhaps she can help as well?”

     “Oh, didn’t Rumple tell you,” Regina replied before he could speak, brows raising in sinister delight, meeting Belle’s gaze. “My sister is also missing.” Her dark orbs burned with distrust as they darted his way. “It seems... _ something _ occurred to trigger the portal opening and  _ supposedly _ give my dear older sibling a chance to escape.”

     He sneered at the insinuation directed his way.

     She was going to cost him everything.

     All for the return of one misguided Savior.

     “What could do that,” Belle inquired, wary gaze flicking between them.

     Regina shrugged. “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him,” she gestured, face distorting in thinly veiled outrage, “he was already at the station standing outside her empty cell when we arrived to find her missing.”

     A chill ripped through him.

     The darkness salivating at the need to rip Regina apart.

     To remind her who she was dealing with,

     To punish her for putting him in this predicament.

     His knuckles creaked with strain as he held himself deathly still, knowing any visible retaliation on his part would forever ruin the chance of a future he so desperately wanted with the auburn haired woman just inches behind him.  

_      You did this _ , an unexpected voice whispered in his ear.

_      You made this happen, Papa. _

     Sweat broke across his skin, the hairs on his body raising in dread.

     He swept his eyes around the room slightly, taking in a sharp breath, looking for the demon that dared to prey upon him in a moment like this.

_      You went against Belle. You used her! You lied to her _ , it reprimanded--his heart starting to thunder loudly in his ears.

_      You killed Zelena and now...now you’re about to lose...everything! _

     He felt hysteria begin to sink in, his skin flushing in goosebumps, his vision clouding with distorted phantoms jeering at him.

_      No _ , he argued.  _ I had to _ , he begged reason.  _ She took you from me! I had to! _

      _Oh no,_ _ Rumple, _ it taunted.

_      Rumple! Rumple! _

     “Rumple!” Belle’s distressed voice shook him out of his haze.

     Bringing him back to his home.

     To the faces watching him intently.

     To the ticking of the grandfather clock.

     ............................................................

     He took a few seconds to collect himself.

     “What,” he rasped, clearing his throat, trying to mask his internal torment.

     “Are you alright,” she questioned softly, eyes troubled with growing alarm.

     “Yes,” he nodded, shifting to release the anxiety pulsing through his body, making his fingers tremble slightly. “Sorry, just caught in a thought.” He gave her a pained smile at the lie. “Nothing to worry about, Belle.”

     “Perhaps it’s best he stays behind,” Robin Hood surmised, looking towards Regina. “He’s obviously unwell and we can’t afford the risk.”

     “No,” he opposed, startling them all. 

     Drawing in a deep, steadying, breath, he glanced at his love.

     Then met Regina’s leery gaze.

     “I’ve changed my mind.” His eyes darted towards Henry. “You’re right. I’m the best one here to assist.”

     “Why,” the brunette demanded, wanting--no doubt--to know his angle.

     “Because.” 

     And he left it at that.

     ...............................

     The specter that had attacked him was now silent.

     The madness that he has been suffering through upon his rebirth--receding just a little.

     The ever present hatred that licked at his bones softened, just a smidge.

     ...................................................................................................................

     If retrieving Miss Swan was the price for peace...

     ...he would pay it.

     So long as Belle was waiting for him on the other side.

     ......................................................................................

     “Fine,” Regina finally conceded. “Let’s go collect a hairy Pirate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had Belle volunteering Rumple's services, but Regina's hostile nature and his disturbed mental state kept clashing. I honestly thought I may have to bring Charming or Henry along after all. The specter that unexpectedly popped up thankfully shifted things back on path.
> 
> Regina may not want to reveal her sources, but I will! :D.
> 
> \- "The Key of Solomon The King; A Translation of King Solomon" by S. Liddell MacGregor Mathers in 1888.  
> \- "Vinaya Texts; Part III THE KULLAVAGGA, IV-XII" Translated from the Pâli by T. W. Rhys Davids and Hermann Oldenberg in 1881.  
> \- "Cosmic Consciousness; A line from Alexander Pushkin (russian poet). Born May 26, 1799; died January 29, 1837" by Richard Maurice Bucke in 1901.
> 
> Yes. I am that much of a geek. The passage I created was gathered from those sources and compiled into a relative (and dangerous) ritual that I wanted to be able to argue as credible against Rumpelstiltskin. So there, you maniacal Imp.
> 
> Plus I figure, outside of Rumple, Belle or Zelena would be the only other ones with such knowledge of the scattered text. But since Zelena's not here...
> 
> Now the big questions come into play.
> 
> Where the hell is Emma?
> 
> And can the four tainted travelers survive the ordeal they are about to take on?


	12. You Can't Start A Fire Without A Spark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but sweet <3\. 
> 
> Enjoy!

     “Tell me when and where, I’ll be there,” Hook said, face determined, the agreement coming off his lips before she even finished talking.

     Just like Henry had predicted.

     For the first time, in a very long time since they reemerged in each other’s life, Regina felt a pang of sympathy and understanding--a complete contrast from how she had been feeling about Killian Jones up until this point.

     His previous betrayals having been damaging and all that.

     But, if she was willing to take a second to be fair, it was her who had committed the first deceit.

     Not wanting to cross that mine field at the moment, she simply turned to Rumple, who had accompanied them, standing outside of Granny’s.

     “The center of town, at midnight,” he replied, Belle at his side, wrapped around his right arm. “Bring an offering, something personal you are willing to sacrifice.” His gaze flickered between hers, the Pirate’s, and Robin’s. “I suggest, in the meantime, you rest.” His beady eyes settled on her. “You’re going to need it.”

    Nodding in understanding, they all parted ways--Robin going off to spend what time he hand with Roland, her following Henry, Snow, and David back to the apartment.

     She didn’t realize how emotionally and physically drained she was until she trailed after her son up to Emma’s room. The minute she was on the bed she felt everything that had been consuming her sink in the mattress beneath, weighing like a blanket, making her eyes flutter with the need for sleep.

     “Here,” Henry said, lying down next to her, an ipod in hand, offering her a pair of headphones off of a dual set. “Listen to this. It--,” his voice hitched. She reached out, gently tangling her fingers with his. “It’s mom’s playlist from the last week or so.” His uncertain gaze sought hers out. “I thought maybe...maybe it would help, y’know?”

     “Thank you, Henry,” she whispered, drawing him closer until they were snuggled together like they use to when he was six and didn’t feel like sleeping alone. “Are you sure though? I don’t wanna--,” her words fell short.

     She didn’t know how to express her hesitancy, or the questions zipping through her mind.

_      What if there were songs on it that were about Walsh? _

_      Or Neal Cassidy? _

_      What if there were songs about her and they were...well...not what she wanted? _

     Her son’s chuckling pulled her from her thoughts.

     “What,” she asked as he scrolled through the device.

     “Trust me, mom,” he said, coming to a stop on a playlist and pointing it out with his thumb, “Emma’s not gonna mind.”

     There, glowing just beneath his nail, were the words ‘Playlist For Regina’.

     She drew in a sharp rattling breath, biting her lip to keep the tears glossing over her eyes from falling. 

     Sniffling, she silently nodded to her son, and put the headphones in. 

     Lying back, the scent of the blond drifting around them as they settled into her comforter, Regina calmed herself and waited for the first song to start.

     She was quite surprised when the music began soft and melodic--even more shocked when she realized she recognized the song.

     A wet laugh leaving her, a single tear trickled down the side of her cheek.

     But she let it fall as her right foot began to tap along to the rhythmic beat.

     Henry squeezed her hand.

     She squeezed back.

     Drawing in a deep breath, closing her eyes, she let the harmonies of a young woman she didn’t know help drift her off into a memory of her and Emma one sunny afternoon.

 

_      “You like Springsteen?” _

_      She caught the blonde’s eye as she entered the living room of her home, the younger woman having wandered off after a much needed break from her magic lessons. _

_      Smiling, Regina quirked a brow at the younger woman, nodding as she tapped the record in question between her hands. “Who doesn’t like The Boss?” _

_      “May I,” she asked, gesturing to the well kept record player near by. _

_      “Have at it,” she agreed, amused by the way forest eyes seemed to sparkle in childlike delight at the opportunity. _

_      Handing her one of the drinks she had brought with her, she settled into a nearby armchair and watched Emma sip at her cider while reading off the song lyrics on the back of the record--tapping her toes as soon as the music started. _

_      “Y’know I have this album,” she said, pulling Regina from her observations, catching her eyes in a curious stare. “Back at the apartment, in New York. Henry and I were passing this old vinyl record shop one day,” she began to explain, shoving her left hand into the back pocket of her always skin tight jeans. “And I just got this...,” she shrugged, “impulse, I guess, to stop in and look.” The corner of her lips drew up, eyes narrowing. “I don’t know why, but the first album I picked up was this one.” She tipped her drink slightly towards her. “Kind of weird, don’t you think?” _

_      Regina grinned. “I gave you false memories so you could properly take care of our son.” She tilted her chin at the record in motion. “Not to improve your choice of music.” _

_      “Hey,” Emma gasped in mock offense, “I have excellent taste in music, thank you very much. And I happened to have been a fan of the classics,” she defended herself, waving the album, “long before your influence, Madam Mayor.” _

 

     Their smiles had expanded as they gazed at one another, all relaxed and warm in a way that left her tingling with something indescribable--starting in her chest and spreading throughout her body. She had chalked it up to the potency of their drinks at the time.

     But now.

     Now she knew better.

 

     Henry watched as his mother began to slide into a needed rest, the circles under her eyes purple to the point they looked bruised.

     He listened along with her to the music selection Emma had created. He was surprised that the first song he heard was a cover of one of his mom’s favorites, the lyrics unmistakable, but the tone--the pitch picked by the artist--unexpected.

     He could get having The Boss on here.

     His mom owned a number of his albums.

     He even got having this particular song.

     But the way it was being delivered....it made him wonder.

     Made him think back to what his Grandpa had asked his mom while they were at his place.

_      ‘What did she say to you? Miss Swan. What did she say to you before the portal took her?’ _

     His mother had held back, refusing to answer.

_      ‘Emma made a choice,’ _ she had told him at the station just after the...incident.

     A sacrifice.

     But...was it one of a hero?

     Or something...more?

     As the next song came on, another familiar yet unpredicted cover--Henry sighed and really thought about the lyrics coursing through his headphones.

     It was becoming startlingly obvious to him he had missed something.

     Something big.

     Something important.

     Something....that was going to forever change the dynamic of his little family.

     Particularly between his two moms.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a number of songs on 'Playlist For Regina' :) but the first two mentioned here are below.
> 
> "Dancing in the Dark" - covered by The Ruth Moody Band. If you have not heard it, you must.
> 
> "Rebel Yell" - covered by Otherwise. Also a must listen to.
> 
> As much as I love the originals, 'cause I am also a child of the 80s, these covers are emotionally melodic in a way that I think express Emma's feelings very easily. Also, if you have ever heard Jennifer Morrison sing outside of OUAT, you can happily imagine her delivering the songs beautifully.


	13. Vanish Into The Night With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, a new chapter! 
> 
> I apologize for the delay. Somewhere between updating my other fic and this one, I caught a head cold that has me all kinds of muddled. So, if this isn't up to par, or doesn't even make sense, let me know. I think it does...but that could just be the meds talking.

     They met just minutes before midnight.

     Robin to her right.

     Hook to her left.

     Rumple directly across from her.

     Drawn between them was an ancient summoning circle with multiple fractal rings divided out--one for each of them to step into admits the others--overlaying like spiraling shells. In the arcs formed by the concentric circles were runes which would ignite and help summon the Seraph that is to lead them to the place between time and realms.

     It was the most powerful archaic symbol she had ever seen.

     She could feel it calling, beckoning her, deep in her veins like a Siren’s song.

     It was terrifying.

     Thrilling.

     And all for Emma.

     Her resolve unwavered.

     ............................

     Only those closest to them gathered to see them off.

     David, Snow, and Henry for her.

     The Merry Men and Roland for Robin.

     Surprisingly, Tink for Hook.

     And Belle--the script Regina had found held firmly in her hands, standing bundled behind her one true love.

     “Have you brought your items,” the Dark One asked, beady eyes darting between them as they inched closer to the chalk lines on the pavement.

     Nodding, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the Sheriff’s badge she had given Emma the day she had earned the job.

     It perhaps didn’t seem like a deeply personal or sentimental item to the others, but to her...after what Emma had said and done...it was as close as she could get to the missing woman. Countless times in that first year she had thought her too incompetent for the position. Yet Emma, in her always defiant nature, had proven her wrong time after time--to the point Regina couldn’t imagine anyone else holding that title  _ but _ her. 

     Looking to her right, she offered Robin a half smile as he held up a feathered arrow in his hand, one which the tip was broken and cracked. It was the arrow he had shot back at the palace in the Enchanted Forest to stop her from getting caught up in a fiery booby-trap set by her sister. He had kept it, telling her it was a memento to mark the day he saved the Evil Queen from certain death.

     She had sneered at the audacity he had to say and do such a thing.

     Now, she was grateful beyond words for his roguish persona and heroic like idiocy that encouraged him to join her on this quest.

_      ‘As someone who cares for you, I simply must assist.’ _

_      .................................................................................... _

     To her left, Hook held a scabbard blade tightly by the pommel--his fingers flushed by the strength of his grip. She recognized it as the one Emma had used while in Neverland. She had forgotten to ask the young woman where she had obtained it when they had been traipsing through that Gods forsaken jungle. Obviously, now it seems the answer had been the Pirate all along.

     His blue eyes were clearer than she could ever remember them being.

     His posture rigid.

     His chin set.

     He reminded her of their days gone by when they had stood in solidarity--warped by heartache and revenge.

     This Killian Jones she could tolerate.

     Quiet and collected.

     Ready for action at just the call.

     Deadly.

     Reliable.

     ..................................................

     Rumple, for his part, removed an aged cloth, one she recognized as having belonged to his son. The fragile material looked dim in the moonlight, a reminder of what had been lost during the battle with Zelena. 

     Baelfire’s death still hollow and pointless.

     Regina would never forget the smell of freshly packed dirt clinging to wet grass so many nights ago as she sat with a tormented Emma in front of his grave. It was a memory, among many others from the past few weeks, that was running on repeat like a looping vhs through her mind’s eye.

     Loss after loss.

     Triumph after triumph.

     Heartbreak after heartbreak.

     Round, after round, after round, after round of half moments lived by the daring slice of another, the cut from one’s own hand, or the tragedy of simply being in existence.

     For all the years gone by, she never really considered how much time had been wasted, how much sorrow could have been avoided.

     Or how often she had wished for someone like Emma in her most private, darkest, moments .

     Recollective regret got her nowhere before.

     Not when she had Henry.

     Not when he was her everything.

     Or had been her only.

     Because now.

     Now...there was the possibility of him being her ‘not only’.

     ...........................................................................................

     “Good.” The Imp’s words bringing her back from her thoughts, she watched as he glanced at his watch, before undoing the clasp on it and handing it off to Belle. Rumple then ushered them into their respective circles. “Now,” he started, meeting each of their intense gazes, “this is not something that can be half-assed. When the ritual demands a personal sacrifice,  _ it means it _ ,” he stressed, holding up his son’s childhood shall. “You will not get these items back. They will forever be lost to time, so I hope you are willing to part with them.”

     One by one they each nodded, Regina drawing in a shaky breath to steel her nerves. 

     There was no telling how this would go.

     Magic, as they knew by now, was unpredictable in this land.

     Everything could go exceptionally right.

     Or it could go very...very....wrong.

     “Keep in mind what the passage said,” he forewarned, “ _thy eyes shall open, thy ears shall hear, thy tongue will know only truth, thy wicked heart shall be torn, and thy mortal body shall crumble--then reborn with will of wisdom and a heart of word’._ ” Regina shivered at the implications. Hook and Robin shifted uncomfortably, but nodded their understanding. “These words are not flights of fancy, they are cautions of what we are about to see.”

     Her heart began to thunder in her chest.

     Because she knew.

     She knew at the station when she had asked Rumple about the possibility of what the portal had done.

     “Miss Swan may very well be scattered to the winds.” His words were clear, precise, void of any emotion...but they still managed to sucker punch her in the gut. He caught her eye as she pulled in a sharp breath. “In which case, we will cross realms and realities where other pieces of ourselves exist.” Robin and Hook tilted their heads curiously at that. “You will see lives past, present, and temporary future. You may be shocked, disappointed, and disturbed.” Hook bowed his head--as if already alarmed by what he had yet to witness. “You will not be able to forget what you experience. It will remain with you always, and there is the very real risk of the knowledge of it all driving you mad.” Robin glanced at her, eyes lingering with a thought, but his chin jutted out just a tad more, and he returned his attention to Rumple. “Living is self awareness in a conscious moment.”

     A brutal reality Regina was all too familiar with.

     “Hold true to that,” Rumple advised, clasping his hands. “Otherwise, you may slip away, never to return.”

     Silence fell as the moon emerged from inky clouds above--each of them lost to their last physical thoughts.

     The baby in Snow’s arms whimpered behind her.

     Henry sniffled.

     She could hear the sound of David gently rubbing Snow’s back.

     The wing rustled by, like a soft caress, stirring anything lying loose along the connected streets they stood in the apex of.

     No one dared to speak.

     But no one moved away either.

     No second guesses.

     No hesitation.

     No regrets at all.

     .........................

     “Are we ready,” Rumple asked.

     Nodding, one by one shared a single parting look with the others gathered, then reached out, taking each other’s hands.

     “Then let us begin,” he requested, crouching slowly--pulling them down with him--and stretching their arms out until they were in the center.

     Prone, eyes closed, Regina gripped the hands within hers tightly along with Emma’s badge, and opened herself to the ritual.

     It was her magic and Rumple’s that was going to set the circle off, to wake the words of the runes, to summon their guide leading them forward.

     Feeling the still new tendrils of light magic begin to hum within her veins, she drew in a deep breath--one after another--and opened her eyes to meet the Imp’s seeking gaze.

     With a twitch of a lip, they began to chant in unison.

     “Hear us, oh blessed one, hear us!” Their voices rang loud into the night, echoing off the twilight. “Hear our sins! Hear our faults! Hear our confessions so that we may bear the brunt of your foretelling!”

     The air began to crackle, growing thick with charge.

     The wind started picking up, moving in a slow turn at first, but gaining speed with each pass, circling them like a growing funnel.

     “Hear us, oh blessed one, hear us!”

     Hook and Robin joined in on the second beckoning, their words resounding in her ears.

     “Hear our sins! Hear our faults! Hear our confessions so that we may bear the brunt of your foretelling!”

     The breeze was now steadily circling them, pushing their observers back, building a wall between them and the town.

     “Hear us, oh blessed one, hear us!” 

     Within the spinning vortex Regina saw the runes light up, flickering like powder lit by a match. The smell of purple, white, and gold wax burning drifted across her senses--followed by the scents of dry smoldering trees, rain soaked leaves, sunshine, and forest life.

     “Hear our sins! Hear our faults! Hear our confessions so that we may bear the brunt of your foretelling!”

      Their individual circles began to glow, each a pulsating rotation of white, purple, gold and blue light chasing one another.

     Regina’s hair was being pushed back, like a gust of air had started to form over their hands in the center of the pavement and outward.

     She chanced a glance at the others, unsurprised to find their gazes locked on the spectacles going on around them.

     But they carried onward.

     “Hear us, oh blessed one,” they were shouting now to be heard over the growing chaos. “Hear our sins! Hear our faults! Hear our confessions so that we may bear the brunt of your foretelling!”

     Everything was spinning.

     The wind. 

     The smells.

     The chalk.

     Even the runes.

     She wasn’t sure, but Regina suspected, if she could lift her head, she would find that they were rotating as well.

     “Hear us,” they commanded.

     “Hear us!”

     “Hear us!”

     “HEAR US,” they invoked.

     .........................................

     .........................................

     And then everything around them exploded into ear ringing silence.

     .........................................

     Stunned.

     Kicked back by the force of blasting air.

     Regina clutched her bruised hand to her chest, not even noticing that Emma’s badge was gone.

     For before her.

     And the others.

     Stood a six winged creature.

     So big.

     So bright

     She couldn’t even see it’s face.

     Just the tips of its multi colored wings.

     Unable to speak in the haze of her gaze, she watched as the being slowly turned--taking each of them in--before stating in booming layering voices...

     “Your pleas, unholy mortals, have been heard.”

     Its wings spread out slightly for a glorious second, filling the space between them from tip to tip, before speaking again.

     “Tell us your transgressions, and find passage over the limen.”

     ...................................................................................................

     She held her breath

     Waiting to see who would move first.

     When no one did.

     She stood.

     “I have murdered thousands,” she voiced, timber hoarse, but stance steady. 

     She knew who she was.

     No matter what her magic may state of her now.

     She was the Evil Queen.

     And a part of her always would be.

     “I have pillaged, tormented, and burned entire villages,” she continued, heart squeezing at her crimes. “I have even persecuted and killed those I love.” A tear slipped down her cheek, her voice cracking. “I broke through realms, time, and space to lay claim to a victory that was hollow.” She pulled in a shuddering breath. “I have wasted all I have been given, including hope...” her watery brown eyes met Robin’s for a hair breadth of a second, “...and affection.” She met the assumed face of the entity as it shifted towards her. “I have failed. I have become...” she swallowed heavy, knowing the truth of it to her very core, “...everything I never wanted to be.”  

     The entity remained silent.

     As if sizing her up.

     Or measuring the density of her sins.

_      Am I heavier than a feather? _

_      Am I more weighted than gold? _

_      Am I even worthy of this? _

_      Of...Emma? _

_      Or love at all? _

     Oblivious, or uncaring of her inner turmoil, the creature suddenly reached out.

     Long fingers wrapped tightly in fine cloth--like a mummy--extended, as if to grab her by the face.

     She braced herself.

     Eyes closing.

     Awaiting her fate.

     ...........................

     And then--with a flick of its wrist--it tapped her in the forehead just above the ridge of her nose.....to send the world around into self consuming mayhem.

     Like her synapses were bursting--pulsing, hot, burning white seared everything.

     Ashes fell and got swept up by an unseen hand.

     Colors flashed like a kaleidoscope.

     Sounds crashed against one another like waves upon rocks.

     And then it all fell away.

     .............................

     She resisted the need to scream, not even aware enough of her own body to bite her tongue if she could.

     She embraced, rather than fear the sense of endless around her.

     ....................................................

     Then she came crashing down.

     Hard.

     Back to the pavement.

     Back to Storybrooke.

     Back to her physical state of being.

     And back to...

     Back to....

_      Black boots? _

     Eyes blinking, confused, she shifted so she was on her knees instead of her side.

     And looked up.

     ........................

     Her entire sense of self stilled.

     Even her heart came to an abrupt stop.

     As forest eyes, clear and oh so, so beautiful bright, crinkled slightly.

     “Hey you,” came a voice like music to her ears.

     Mute, completely frozen by her storm of emotions, Regina just stared.

     ..........................................................................

     Until Hook came crashing out of nowhere beside her.

     Followed a second later by Robin.

     And then Rumple.

     A groan, and a few choice curse words, was all the Pirate was able to mutter, before Regina finally found her voice and rasped...

     “Emma?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have not heard "Fear on Fire" by Ruelle, you must, as it is the song that will likely be guiding these characters emotions on the next few chapters.
> 
> And woohhooo! We found Emma already! That was like...like.....way to fucking easy.
> 
> Right?
> 
> Right? ;)


	14. I know That I'm Not Dreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy weekend all!
> 
> A short chapter, but one I hope you'll enjoy :).

_      ‘Hey you.’ _

     ...............

     No one moved.

     The men around her just sat where they were, staring at the blond standing between--all black boots, tight jeans, that red leather Regina hated to admit she loved, and golden curls surrounding the most serene look anyone had ever witnessed on the savior’s face.

     “Emma,” she breathed her name again, her legs unsteady but her torrent of emotions demanding her to stand.

     Wobbly, she watched as Henry’s mother observe her rise to her feet.

     No hand out to assist.

     No questions about where they were or how they got to her.

     Just that content look.

     Frowning, drawing in a shaky breath, Regina opened her mouth to speak...but found words absent.

     “Swan,” Hook rumbled, staggering slowly into his own stance, his features pinching as he eyed her warily, “Are you alright?”

     But Emma just tilted her head his way, glancing at him, offering him a half smile, before returning her attention to Regina.

     Though her gorgeous hazel eyes may be the clearest the brunette had ever seen them--her gaze was disturbingly vacant.

     “Emma,” she tried a third time, voice a bit stern--a tone that would often make the blond glare at her.

     Yet she didn’t.

     She just smiled and acknowledged, “Regina,” in the softest timbre she had ever heard the woman use.

_      No. _

_      By the Gods...no. _

     “What’s wrong with her,” asked Robin, finally gathering himself along with Rumplestiltskin.

     “Exactly what I feared most,” replied the Imp, taking in their surroundings, noting that he could only see the closest of structures--everything else consumed by an endless darkness.

     “S-so she really fractured herself,” Regina stuttered, sorrow and anger swelling to the forefront of her emotions, pushing the rest down to burn in her gut.

     That moment in the barn where Emma splintered apart replaying sickeningly over and over in her mind.

     “It appears that way.” He walked around the other woman, coming to stand beside her, catching the blonde’s attention. Her eyes shifted his way, a brief nod in recognition, before settling her stare back on her.

     He sighed, turning to Regina to murmur lowly, “I’m sorry, but this Emma’s just a shell, dearie.” Old eyes watched her from his peripheral. “Easily at ease because she’s hollow of existence.”

     The once Evil Queen swallowed the lump in her throat, unable to tear her gaze away from the glowing creature before her.

     This was worst than any nightmare she had ever experienced before.

     “What now,” asked Hook, looking as pale as the brunette felt, blue eyes troubled. “We can’t leave her like this. Not like....”

_      Not like a husk of a human being _ , Regina thought like acid on her tongue.

_      Stupid hero complex. _

_      Stupid curses. _

_      Stupid, stupid blond! _

     She wanted to reach out, to slap the other woman, perhaps push her or even deck her like she had that first year in the graveyard.

Something. Anything. To make her react, to give her... _ life _ .

     “We must find the parts that have broken off and bring them together,” Rumple answered the Pirate, taking a step back from the group, searching their surroundings once more. “This is obviously just a void. The longer she stays in this state,” he gestured toward Emma, unmoving, but paying some form of attention, “the more permanent it becomes.”

     “Where do we even begin,” sighed Robin, taking in the monumental task ahead of them.

     Granny’s was visible.

     As was the Sheriff’s station.

     Gold’s shop.

     Oddly enough, the old well from the woods.

     The Charming’s apartment building.

     Regina’s vault....and her house.

     “There,” the brunette stated, nodding in the direction of her white pillar home with its unnaturally illuminated red door. “I-if she’s divided herself between what was...” she glanced at the others anxiously, hands coming together to rest against her stomach, “what is, and what...could be,” she drew in a deep breath, “then my place is the starting point.” She caught Hook’s eyes, then Robins. “The first night she arrived in Storybrooke was to bring Henry home.”

     “So that’s where at least a piece of her should be,” surmised the forest thief, eyes crinkling sympathetically.

     Regina nodded.

     It was a good assumption as any.

_      Please let it be. _

_      Please. _

 

     Moving as one, the group started towards the former Mayor’s house.

     Only to stop.

     When they realized Emma was falling into step right with them.

     “Where are you going,” Regina asked, surprised to find the blonde behind her.

     “With you,” answered the young woman simply.

     The brunette’s distressed eyes darted towards the Dark One.

     Rumple shrugged. “Your destinies have always been intertwined. Where you go,” he gestured between them, then towards the mansion, “so shall she.”

     Regina’s breath caught at the insinuation.

     She knew their lives were heavily entangled.

     But she had never considered destiny apart of that.

     Just the Imp beside her and his malevolent machinations.

_      Had he...? _

_      Was it possible...? _

     She suppressed the questions rising in her throat.

     Not wanting him to take back what he had said by clarification.

     For the moment.

     For this particular task.

     She just wanted to....

     Believe.

     ....................................

     A parting glance to the smiling blond, Regina turned back towards her house, and began forward once more.

     There was no air moving about them.

     No sounds but the falling of their footsteps.

     No aromas, even, but the scent of herself and the men around her.

     The hedge and bushes framing the front of her yard didn’t give off the sweet scent of green growth. The stone, though it looked wet like it had that night Emma arrived four years ago, didn’t smell or even feel dewy with rain. The gate parted without creak or groan of protest as they one by one passed through. 

     She couldn’t even sense the magic that she had grown use to lingering in the air of the town she had built while they walked up the pathway to her front door.

     Just like the woman behind her, this place was nothing more than a facade.

     A horrird false state of being.

     Empty without purpose.

     .....................................

     “Now, before we enter,” Rumple stopped them before reaching the threshold of her porch, “you must keep in mind the payment you have offered up. Once through that door,” the older man pointed, “time will begin.” He caught their gazes, holding their attention. “No matter the state of reality or timeline we find ourselves in. Understood?”

     They nodded.

     A deep breath.

     Then another.

     A clearing of a throat.

     And a shuffling of restless feet.

     All signaled they were ready.

     Unable to resist, Regina looked over her shoulder one last painful time to the woman behind her--presence vivid, but absent of warmth--to absorb her. Saving her to memory.

     Just in case...

     Whatever was inside was something she was unprepared for.

     Smiling, Emma gave her the slightest of nods, as if she understood what was happening.

     Regina’s vision misted as tears gathered, heartache racing to the surface of her skin, making it itch with unbearable loss.

     Sniffling, she turned back to her home, took the steps one at a time--waiting until the rest had gathered--then slowly reached out, opening the door.

 

     In a bright flash--a blur of sounds and colors exploding around her--Regina found herself standing...outside....

     Except she was in her grey dress.

     The air was warm with only a nip of a breeze.

     Henry glaring at her, the words, “I found my real mom,” echoing between them before he was running towards the house.

     And then she was looking up from where he had been.

     To a pair of confused and uncomfortable green eyes.

     .................................

     She shook her head.

     Shocked.

     Disturbed.

     And readily aware of where she was.

     “You’re Henry’s birth mother,” came out of her mouth, astounded--not only to find herself back here like the predicted, with Emma, but to see the very expressive blond standing sheepishly in front of her.

     “Hi,” she offered with an awkward shrug.

     ................................................................

     It was like slamming into a brick wall.

     Surreal and yet completely tangible all at once.

     Her soul vibrated, like a bell being struck by a hammer.

     Her entire being ringing loudly in her ears.

     .......................................................................................

     Then she was shaken from her internal conflict by Graham _ (his voice pinging a chord of regret within her) _ muttering something behind them, Emma’s eyes darting his way--Regina still taking her in.

     Same boots.

     Pants.

     Jacket.

     Hair.

     Same everything as the shell that had followed them from the void.

     But real.

     Real of life and emotion.

     ......................................

     At least....real enough, from what Regina could sense.

_      Does she know? _

_      Is she aware of this moment as I am? _

_      Or is this just...just a memory? _

     Her eyes briefly flickered around her, realizing they were alone.

     No Hook.

     No Rumple.

     Not even Robin.

_      Is it because they were not present for this moment? _

_      Because this year is mine to pay out? _

     So many questions!

     And not enough time.

     Just...not enough.

     Shaking her head, Regina focused back on Emma’s hesitant stare--offering her the most cheerful smile she could muster among the pain radiating throughout her chest, asking “How would you like a glass of the best apple cider you have ever tasted?”

     “Got anything stronger,” the young woman queried right back.

     She dug her nails into her palm to resist screaming in agony as the familiarity of the blond’s words rippled through her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew!
> 
> That's a bit of a gut punch.
> 
> Going from blank Emma to awkward brimming with life Emma. Because of the dichotomy, I cut this chapter short. I have the entire experience for this encounter wrote out, but the emotions bounce so wildly all over the place, I felt it was necessary to cut ties here so you could absorb this first, then move forward once I post the next piece.
> 
> There's a lot to address and work out. Regina kind of went in blind. I mean, she gets the gist of what she wants, but how do you go about that? How do you collect a piece of a person's soul when you are reliving a moment in time that is backward from where you are now? And if you succeed, how do you move forward? This isn't Quantum Leap (though wouldn't that be cool as shit?).
> 
> The song for this chapter is "Mr. Sandman" covered by SYML since, if Regina was dreaming, THIS version of Emma I think is the one she loves most. You can also consider it apart of Emma's playlist for her.


	15. So I know We'll Meet Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update a lot sooner than usual.
> 
> Enjoy! :)

     She wracks her brain, trying to remember exactly how this encounter had gone without visibly hyperventilating. It was something she would have sworn before this point that she could never forget. Yet she was so nervous, so rattled, that she felt like she was experiencing it all again for the first time.

     “How did he find me,” Emma asks from her entryway as she exits her kitchen and moves toward the decanter by the dining room table.

     Keeping her hands busy meant they couldn’t shake.

     No matter how badly she was trembling inside.

_      Keep it together, Regina. _

_      She can’t know. _

_      Not until you’re certain her essence is even here. _

     The blond shifts restlessly as well, thumbs in her front jean pockets, tone curious but wary.

     “No idea,” she sighs the lie, a flickering memory of Snow and that damnable book passing by her mind’s eye while she works on pouring them each a drink. “When I adopted him, he was only three weeks old. Records were sealed.” Her voice hitches a little. “I was told the mother didn’t want any contact.”

_      ‘He’s my son!’ _

_      ‘He is not, he’s mine!’ _

     She could feel the young woman’s gaze burning into her back, could hear the inflection of pained regret in her words as she murmurs, “you were told right.”

_      ‘I’m taking back my kid!’ _

     “And the father,” she asks,--still saddened by her and Henry’s mutual loss.

     “There was one.” The reply is short, dismissing.

_      Will Emma ever tell me one day about the life she and Rumple’s had before Henry? _

     They each shared their hidden pasts, but....

     She wanted to know.

     To see Emma, as she hasn’t before.

     “Do I need to be worried about him?”

     “Nope. He doesn’t even know.

     Her tone is distant.

     Not uncaring, but there is certainly an unwillingness to bring him about.

     Regina turns, glasses in hand, and strides toward the younger woman.

     “Do I need to be worried about  _ you _ , Miss Swan,” she enquirers with a raised brow that silently begs, _ ‘Are you alright? Do you know what’s happening right now? Is my Emma in you?’ _

     “Absolutely not,” assures the blond, a bit of a coy smile tugging at her lips, enticing one from the brunette.

     Though she doesn’t feel assured in the slightest.

     Not knowing...not clear on how exactly this is all suppose to go down for her to get the savior back, has her on edge.

     The ramifications of altering anything, even in the slightest, is spine chilling.

     Playing with time, even in exploration to save someone lost to it, is a very serious, deadly, matter.

     “Mother Mayor, you can relax,” comes Graham from upstairs, startling her and Emma, pulling her attention, reminding them both they are not alone. “Other than being a tired little boy, Henry’s fine.”

     Tears glisten slightly in her eyes, her heart squeezing at the sight of the man descending the last step to come stand before them.

     “Thank you, Sheriff,” she replies softly, wishing so, so deeply in the instance, that she could undo what has been done.

_      Is that why I’m here? _

_      Why Emma is here? _

     The Hunstman had been a beautiful soul.

     A wild creature she never wanted to tame.

     His betrayal had stung.

     And her actions afterwards...well....

     Were unforgivable.

     She knew the young woman and Graham had bonded--more than just over a simple kiss.

_      Had Emma loved him? _

_      Was HE her true love? _

     She glances in suppressed agony at the woman leaning against her doorway, glass to her lips. But the blonde’s gaze is only bouncing towards the Hunstman briefly, never settling, not going beyond awareness to recognition.

     If Regina was suppose to change anything here between the three of them, surely the opportunity would not be this particular nexus in their shared past?

     That day at the graveyard?

     Most definitely.

     But this....

_      No. _

     Internally, she shakes her head, resigned to let this prior event play itself out.

     With a nod, the ruggedly handsome man departs once more, exiting her life--and her home--as quietly as she had crushed his heart in her vault.

     Drawing in a ragged breath, she turns back to Emma and apologizes, “I’m sorry he dragged you out of your life,” referring to Henry, but also herself.

     Because she is sorry.

     Sorry Emma has been donned the title of Savior.

     Sorry for her gut wrenching losses since breaking her curse.

     Sorry for her stupidity, and need to protect those she loves so recklessly that it is why they find themselves here now.

     “I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” she sighs, walking towards her study, the younger woman’s boots thumping across her wood floor as she trails behind her.

     “Kid’s having a rough time,” she surmises, shrugging as Regina closes the door. “It happens.”

     “You have to understand, ever since I became Mayor, balancing things have become tricky,” she tries to explain, walking around the couch Emma takes possession of to stand at the mantle where she has a fire burning. “You have a job I assume,” she asks, eyes observing the way Emma readily takes to her drink, head nodding.

     So open.

     So worry free.

    She had missed this before.

     Had cared less to know the mother of her son beyond determining if she was a threat or not.

     Now though.

     Now she can see the childlike innocence the blond still has at this time.

     The fresh face of youth.

     The lines of a life hard lived but proudly earned.

     The uncertainty residing under the surface.

     As if she was always expecting to be measured by those around her.

     Something her Emma, after all these years, still unfortunately possesses.

     “Uh, I keep busy, yeah” she replies, smiling impishly while she settles her drink on the coffee table.

     “Well imagine having another one atop of it,” Regina says, leaving the mantle behind to take her own seat across from the other woman who is running her hands anxiously down the thighs of her jeans. “That’s being a single mom.” She smiles at the truth of that--of all her years with Henry before Emma’s arrival. “So I push for order,” she chuckles.

     It is often joked about her being the disciplinary mom.

     Unlike the younger blond.

     Before their year apart, at least.

     “Am I strict,” she humors, her own hands nervously smoothing out her dress as she shifts in her seat, “I suppose. But I do it for his own good.”

     Their gazes meet.

     Emma’s exposed, disturbed a bit in a way Regina would not have comprehended before, but understands completely now.

     “I don’t think that makes me Evil,” she reveals.

     It’s something she worries about.

     On her bad days when she’s doubting everything good in her life.

     Eyes squinting slightly as she sees something flicker in the blond’s forest orbs, she queries softly, “Do you?” 

     .....Awareness.

     Or should she call it...dawning, suddenly seems to blossom in Emma’s expression--brows shooting up, mouth opening a split second as if gobsmacked, before settling into bemused.

     They each catch their breath for a beat.

     Like they are now both consciously present.

     “I’m sure he’s just saying that because of the fairy tale thing,” Emma finally reasons to her words, reaching for her drink.

     But the hairs on Regina’s arms stand.

     The air thickening.

     Pressure, like suddenly being inside a bubble, presses upon her.

     .....Then Emma winks.

     .....And the tension explodes out, dissolving like a fine magical mist.

     “Emma,” she hiccups, daring to be hopeful, but ready to be disappointed if things continued forward--unchanged--just as they had before.

     “Regina,” murmurs the blonde, unexpectedly looking around them, before sitting back--getting comfy in a way she never would have dared during their first meeting. “Thanks for the drink,” she raises her glass, “I sure as hell need it.”

     A sob partially breaks out of her, before she manages to cover her mouth.

_      Oh Gods! _

_      It’s really her! _

_      .................... _

     “D-do you know where you are,” she stutters, rasping the burning question as she stands shakily, moving hesitantly towards the other woman--heart and mind racing.

     Emma’s brow furrows, crinkling with thought, eyes darting around them once more, before she replies--uncertain, “At your...house? In your study...I think?”

     Regina tries to hide the knocking of her knees by quickly sitting next the blond.

     Surprised, when Emma’s frown deepens at their proximity.

     “You alright,” she questions, eyes skimming over Regina’s face.

     Concerned.

     But not deeply so.

     A cool grip squeezes at the brunette's lungs.

     She clears her throat, pulls her emotions back, then nods her head.

     “I’m fine,” she croaks.

     This is Emma.

     But not.

     It’s a true fracture of herself, she realizes.

     The younger part.

     The one from this first year.

     “I know we’ve had our issues but...” the blond trails off, gaze falling to the right cuff of her jacket as she plays with it. Then she shrugs. “I kind of figure we just needed to get on the right foot.” Green orbs bounce back up to meet her questioning stare. “We didn’t exactly make the best first impression on one another.”

_      No, _ she reasons.

     They hadn’t.

     Regina bites her lip, trying to decide on how to play this out.

_      Is this what Emma needs? _

_      An acknowledge of misstepping between them? _

     “You’re right,” she agrees, drawing in a shaky breath, catching the younger woman’s gaze. “We’re both...temperamental and territorial...But we should have behaved better than that.”

     The blond smiles, eyes shining bright like the empty vessel from the void.

     “I wouldn’t change it y’know,” she reveals, finishing off her drink. “And I’m sorry about your tree, but...you can’t deny it wasn’t at least fun.”

     Regina chuckles at that.

     Tears threatening to spill.

_      Yes, for better or worse, it had been a frustratingly stimulating first year with the Savior. _

     Perhaps...had she recognized her feelings for what they were sooner...they wouldn’t be here now. Robin and Hook wouldn’t even be a consideration.

     And Henry?

     He would have been  _ theirs _ far sooner than Neverland.

_      Ah well. _

_      Such is life, eh? _

     ..........

     Suddenly, without warning, the spell between them breaks--as something like an invisible hook, pierces through her body, snagging her core by its ethereal strings.

     She gasps, rocked with searing pain.

     Then.

     Unexpectedly.

     She’s yanked violently forward--pulling her right off the couch, crashing her to her knees weakly between it and the coffee table.

     “Regina,” Emma shouts, alarmed.

     Crying out, feeling an icy hand slither into her, she curls inward as a sensation--that horrifically reminds her of her encounter with that Wraith--begins cutting her apart, drawing a piece of her very soul...

     Right...

     The fuck...

     Out.

     She looks up through a haze of encroaching darkness--head and heart pounding--and is startled to find the blond beside her, reaching out, gripping her shoulder. Steadying her. Face scrunched in worry.

     “Emma,” she breaths in overwhelming grief, quickly realizing that a pivot is occurring.

     That this moment is coming to an end.

     ......................

     Because the searing pain still making her tremble?

     ....Is her toll.

     A year, or more, sacrificed.

     For the blond who loves her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn.
> 
> Well, now we, and Regina at least, know what to expect when trying to piece Emma back together.
> 
> It's not pleasant in the slightest. Nor should it be.
> 
> I really had to explore the entire purpose for Emma even splitting herself. In the end, it came down to her own personal conflicts--to the things she wishes she would have said, to the actions she wanted to undue, even though we know the past cannot be undone.
> 
> That then puts Regina, and the others, in quite a predicament. This isn't hindsight is 20/20. This is atonement. This is brutal self awareness slapping you across the face as it reaches out from the other side of the mirror.
> 
> The question is....can they handle it? Will they all pay out? Or will one...or all of them, find a breaking point where they say Emma isn't enough for this? Because once the process is started...I don't really know that you can go back....


	16. Among The Lines of Heartache and What Could Have Been

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy weekend all!

     Robin watches with the others as Regina materializes back in the void formed Storybrooke the same time as the Sheriff--who has been an observer with them--collapses to the ground, gripping at her head and chest in distress.

     He calls out, rushing to her side, while Hook kneels with Emma. 

     “Regina, are you alright?” He reaches out hesitantly to touch her trembling frame, heart racing with worry. 

     The brunette gasps, face contorting in agony--teeth gnashing together to keep from whimpering.

     .....But nods her head nonetheless.

     “Emma,” she queries, crinkled eyes scanning their surroundings, looking for the blonde. 

     He gently guides her gaze past the gate of her house where they are to the Sheriff staggering to her feet with the pirate’s assistance just a few yards away.

     The once Queen visibly relaxes, and he eventually helps her collect herself onto her own feet, the worst of her pain seeming to subside with each haggard breath.

     “We saw everything,” he informs as they join the others, Regina’s eyes fixed on the younger woman, “but we couldn't enter the house with you.”

     She nods her understanding, but rasps the blond’s name questioningly as their gazes lock.

     The sheriff draws in a ragged breath, observing their situation with a little more awareness than before. “Where the hell are we? What's going on?”

     The woman nestled in his hands shivers, eyes glistening with unshed tears, but replies, “In a false Storybrooke between time and realms.”

     The blonde frowns deeply at the news, hands on her hips, expression torn with uncertainty.

     “How did we end up here,” she inquires, eyes flickering from himself, to Hook, then Rumpelstiltskin, before settling back on Regina.

     Pain blossoms across her face, tugging at his heart, as she answers a bit accusingly, “You. You made a  _ stupid _ choice, Miss Swan, and now we're here to get you back.”

     The younger woman unexpectedly takes a step back, visibly chastised, surprised, and wary of the revelation.

     He squeezes Regina’s arms in sympathy, sensing the heartache, frustration, pounding through her.

     He is always marveled at the depths of her emotions.

     Has never known someone who _ feels _ quite like she does.

     .....................

     The Dark One steps forward, breaking their conversation, catching the Sheriff's attention.

     Tilting his head curiously, he asks, “What's the last thing you remember, dearie?”

     The famed Savior is reluctant to answer, bottom lip caught between worrying teeth.

     In a quickly forming familiar pattern, she seeks out Regina’s gaze--as if asking what to do next--before sighing, “Breaking the curse.”

     Green eyes glance to the pirate beside her, obviously unsure what to make of his presence. “Saving Regina from the mob.” Her gaze suddenly narrows angrily on the Dark One. “And the Wraith  _ you _ sent after her.”

     ..... _ What? _

     Robin’s own temper flares at that. “You did what,” he snaps, just as angrily.

     He knows Regina's past is marred with strife.

     That most of her existence has been a battle of survival.

     But he’s never grasped the depths of it.

     .....Until now.

     ....................

     The Imp simply stares.

     “You bloody monster,” he growls taking a step forward. “You sent a Wraith after her?”

     But Regina pulls him back.

     Squeezing his forearm.

     Trying to call him.

     “That was almost 3 years ago,” she informs the blonde--and him in tandem.

     .....Reminding him that the encounter he just witnessed wasn’t new.

     That they all share a longer, more sordid history.

     .....Except him.

     ................... 

     Emma’s attention finally turns his way, forest orbs looking him up and down--similar to their first meeting. “Who are you?”

     He pauses for a beat, unsure exactly how to answer.

_      Are there ramifications if I do so? _

     In habit with the blond, he turns to the woman beside him, questioningly.

     Regina nods encouragingly.

     Taking a deep, steadying, breath, he offers out his hand. “Robin of Locksley.”

     .............

     The Savior’s nose wrinkles.

     Gaze darting to Regina, then the others, for confirmation.

     .....Before nodding her head, deliberately ignoring his outstretched greeting. “Okay.”

     .............

     It’s uncomfortably familiar. 

     Her dismissiveness.

     Not outright dislike.

     But not exactly friendliness either.

     .............

     For whatever reason, Emma Swan, is not fond of him 

     ....And he doesn't understand that.

     Not one bit.

 

*****

 

     Disregarding the thief, Rumple turns back to the Savior, studying her intently while mentally reviewing what they had just observed.

     He had not been completely surprised when Regina alone was capable of entering her house.

     But he was admittedly startled to find himself watching her first encounter with Snow White’s daughter that destined night she rolled into Storybrooke.

     ..............

     Time is a tricky creature.

     And the human mind is, considerably, unpredictable.

     They are where they are because Miss Swan deems it such.

     This is where she wants to be.

     ....And that had been her first fracturing piece.

     “Yes well,” he clears his throat, gaining her derisive focus once more. “As her Majesty stated, that’s in the past.” He watches the way her brow furrows before asking, “What else do you recall?”

     Hazel eyes shift to the pirate. “Falling through a portal. Facing Cora and  _ him _ ,” she nods at the man, “then coming back here through the well.”

     “Anything else?”

     Her frown deepens.

     Face scrunching in thought.

     ....But shakes her head

     “No.” She fingers the cuff of her jacket anxiously, gaze darting around them.

     He nods.

_      So there is a limit. _

     Turning to Regina, he asks, “How did it feel? Paying the toll?”

     His once pupil grunts, glaring as she snarks, “How the hell do you think it felt?”

     “Like dying I imagine,” he says seriously.

     .....Because he wants it to be clear to all of them.

     What she endured?

     .....Is what they all will face.

     .......................

     “What toll,” asks the Savior, drawing his attention back to her.

     Green eyes dart with concern from Regina to him.

     “The one we each must pay in order to piece you back together, dearie.”

     The blond scowls disbelievingly. “What?”

     “You’ve shattered yourself, Miss Swan, quite like the fabled Humpty Dumpty.”

     The Sheriff snorts at that.

     .....But when no one disputes him, she turns to the Evil Queen.

     “What happened?” Her tone is soft, apprehensive, as she fidgets.

     Regina wets her lips, brown eyes murky--conflicted with emotions--and replies just as softly, “You fell through a portal.....and lost yourself.”

     .............

     “Henry?”

     The boy will always be the first thing shared among them.

     “He's fine,” Regina assures.

     The Savior sighs in relief.

_      Mothers.  _

     That's who they are to one another in this instance.

     .............

     As he told Regina, they were always destined to cross paths.

     But their entanglement is as unclear as Miss Swan’s memory.

     ..............

     He had manipulated their circumstances for his own purpose.

     Conspiring and deceiving every chance he got.

     When they arrived in Storybrooke, and the curse eventually broke, he fully believed they would destroy one another.

     .....But that never came to pass.

     Instead, they clung to one another, almost instantly.

     Relying on each other's strengths and weaknesses.

     Facing enemies, and themselves, with unimaginable strength and resolve.

     It has left him as intrigued as it has disturbed.

     .....Because even the true fabrics of fate are hidden from the Dark One’s gaze. 

 

*****

 

     Hook scratches at his scruffy beard thoughtfully.

     Absorbing all that they have experienced since passing through the folds of time.

     When Emma’s troubled eyes drift his way, he tries to offer her a sincere smile.

     But she frowns and takes a step closer to Regina.

     .........

     He sighs internally.

     Resigning himself to the truth before him.

     To the woman he first met back in the Enchanted Forest.

     The one who easily left him chained in the midst of an angry giant.

     Alone.

     “What now,” he questions, drawing her Majesty’s, and the Imp’s, his way. “Who goes next?”

     Both are silent for a moment.

     Thinking.

     “That’s up to Emma,” the brunette decides, whiskey orbs searching the buildings around them.

     The blonde opens her mouth to speak, but Regina raises a hand, silencing her. “Intentional or not, this world is of her creation. What we see around us,” she gestures with a twirl of a finger, “is obviously each a piece of herself.” Her gaze darts between their rapt faces. “None of us will know who it is meant for until they cross over into it.”

     Rumpelstiltskin nods in agreement.

_      Bloody wonderful. _

     “How many years do you think you lost,” he asks, wanting to know the tally.

     Resisting the urge to look at Emma.

     ..........

     He can sense her remorse.

     As well as her agitation.

     For a woman with fortress thick walls, she is vividly expressive when left unbalanced.

     And at the moment...

     He suspects Emma feels just as lost as she had in Neverland.

     ..............

     “As many years as passed between then and now,” the Evil Queen replies.

     Emma flinches.

     His heart constricts for her--wanting nothing more than to make her whole.

     .....But he fears the price.

     ...............

     Not in paying it.

     He will gladly do so.

     But in what he will likely lose come the end of this all.

     ...........

     Nodding, his blue eyes seek out their next destination, and he point towards it.

     “The barracks then?”

     “Station,” both women correct in unison.

     “Aye,” he concedes. Pushing the pain rippling through his chest back into the depths of his gut. “The station.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was much easier to write from the three men's perspective this time around than before.
> 
> Pre curse, and just post curse Emma are no different than Wicked With Emma. I don't think she automatically dislikes Robin. She's just not...openly friendly. Especially when she, consciously or not, senses some kind of competition between them. A thief versus a thief. Who both happen to care deeply for the same woman.
> 
> I know Rumple can see the future. But since he always seems to get it wrong as it is always changing and hard to interpret, I want it to be clear that he has no knowledge of what is to come for all of them--especially our favorite ladies. He's just as oblivious as the others on this quest.
> 
> I don't think Hook gets enough credit for the way her cares. Like Regina, he's quite passionate--obsessively so. If you were to take out his romantic inclinations, I believe he would make a great friend and support to Emma...I just don't know if he can do that. If he can grow enough to let her go. To see that she gets the happiness that she wants in the end...even when it's not him.


	17. In Different Places, And Different Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in posting. I hope you have all had a nice weekend. Happy holidays to all celebrating!
> 
> Now, on to the story. <3

     “Where are my parents,” is the next question Emma asks as they slowly trek toward the doors of the Sheriff’s building. Robin falling silently behind her. The blonde stepping up into his place.

     What Regina really hears is,  _ ‘Why didn’t they come for me?’ _ .

     .....She draws in a long breath.

     Giving herself the time to collect her thoughts and emotions, the remnants of their encounter lingering upon her like statically charged dew.

     Everything aches.

     Her bones.

     Her muscles.

     Her skin.

     Her head.

     Even her hair.

     ..............

     “They were unable to come,” she replies, tone low, eyes focused on the cement structure they’re approaching. “They wanted to.” Brown orbs flicker briefly to the younger woman. “I even had to fight your father on it.” She pulls in another extended breath. “But the particular ritual and...sacrifices required...were beyond their depths.”

    ..............

     Emma’s frown deepens.

     Displeased.

     ..............

     She doubts, no matter what she could say, that the princess would be happy either way.

     This part of the blonde is still a hurt and lonely orphan.

     She was just beginning to grasp what her parents had done.

     What she had done.

     .....It was amazing Emma felt any need at all to resolve things as she had, considering.

     “You said I made this,” the younger woman ponders, forest eyes taking in their surroundings with a wary look. “That I pulled you all here because of a stupid mistake.”

     ..............

     She doesn’t reply.

     Waiting her out.

     .....She can feel the tension pulsating off of her.

     The self reproach while she tries to comprehend what some future version of herself has done.

     ..............

     “The thing is,” Emma adds, nose flaring, lifting her chin a bit, her eyes narrowing on some far off distant point, “I can’t imagine me doing something  _ that _ stupid with a portal,” her seeking gaze finds her own, “unless I was trying to make right a wrong...or saving someone.”

     ................

     Regina purses her lips.

     Lower’s her eyes to her boots.

     Arms coming across her chest to fold in tightly.

     ................

     “For a supposed savior, you make foolish choices,” she remarks.

     Unwilling to concede that Emma’s actions were brave and noble.

     .....Not for her.

     Not for what she left her with.

_      ‘I love you.’ _

     ...............

     This Emma snorts.

     Then rolls her eyes.

     .....She still hates the title.

     Hasn’t embraced it yet like her Emma has.

     ................

     ....She misses that.

     If she’s being honest with herself.

     The blond who hesitated before running headlong into something she knows nothing about. The one who, though innately impulsive, would at least turn and listen to her when requested.

     The one who would leave her to die  _ ‘as Regina’ _ so everyone could be saved.

     ................

     “I guess a lot has happened in the last three years.”

     The words tug the Evil Queen from her thoughts.

     She glances at the princess beside her.

     Eyes unwittingly roaming.

     Taking her in.

     Absorbing her youthful edginess.

     “Yes,” she raps in acknowledgment.

     Head turning back to the doors just a few yards from them now.

_      More than this version of you could ever know. _

     Hook reaches them first.

     Coming to a shuffling stop.

     His posture tight.

     Expression grim.

     .............

     Regina can’t bring herself to step around him.

     Her and Emma have many shared memories here.

     .....Not all of them good.....

     And she’s apprehensive of what to expect next.

     .............

     “We haven’t got all day, dearie.” Rumple’s words snap her away from the large glass reflections. 

     Earning a glare from the pirate.

     The Imp gestures to Emma beside her. “And neither does she. The longer we take, the harder it will be to piece Miss Swan together.”

     .............

     It’s a painful reminder...

     But it works.

     With a brief glance to the rest of them, his eyes settling on the blond for longer than Regina cares, Hook turns back to the doors, reaches out, and yanks one open.

 

     Just like before, a swirl of colors, voices, and faces sweep her up. 

     Pulling her, like she’s snagged by a bungee cord, past places she’s never seen.

     Tall skyscraper buildings.

     Dark, dank alleyways.

     Hazy bars.

     Crowded office spaces.

     Small villages.

     Musty barbaric cells.

     .....Over and over again they push and drag.....

     ......................

     Until she comes to a violent stop.

     .....................

     Ears ringing.

     Head pounding.

     Stomach still rolling to the point she’s afraid she might be sick.

     She closes her eyes and focuses internally.

     Waiting.

     Breathing raggedly.

     .....Willing herself motionless.....

     Before she can finally lift her head.

     Taking in her new surroundings.

     .....................

     Which is nothing more than the inside of the Sheriff’s station.

     More directly, the main office--neighboring desks, and the two cells they never bothered to add on to--to their left and right.

     .....Realizing she’s on her knees, Regina sighs and pushes herself unsteadily to her feet.

     Robin’s arms coming out from her right to assist.

     Grateful, she gives him a pained smile, then looks around, searching for any noticeable changes to give her a clue as to their time frame.

     Was this another past event?

     A future one?

     Alternate present?

     .....Nothing looks too out of the ordinary...

     Stacks of partially finished reports are scattered here and there.

     The smell of reheated coffee permeates the room.

     A couple jackets she doesn’t recognize rest on nearby pegs.

     .....But they are all present.....

     Which means, whatever this place is.

     It is one they share with Emma.

     ........................

     .....Speaking of the blonde, Regina just now notes her absence.

     Head swinging about, she opens her mouth to comment on it.....

     When the outer doors they had just passed through suddenly open with a loud distant bang.

     .....Eyes searching the faces of the others, she takes in a haggard breath.

     And braces herself.

 

     Rumple senses the difference instantly.

     Magic, like a living things, carries a particular--tangible--element.

     Even in another world like this.

     .....And, as heavy paced footfalls draw closer, he can taste the power emanating from the approaching person--like bitter chocolate coating his tongue.

     Tickling at his own magic.

_      Curious. _

     .........................

     He awaits, like the others, watching intently.

     .....But what they are greeted by is so far removed from anything he could have predicted....

     That he can’t help the, “Oh my” that escapes him.

     .....Disturbed, he seeks her Majesty’s gaze, as she draws in a sharp gasp.

     “What the hell happened to you?”

     The words fly out of her mouth before she can even stop them.

     Wide eyes bouncing from Rumple’s to a bruised cheek, battered knuckles, and a far, far to pale complexion swaddled in god awful clothes that could have only come from Snow White’s closet.

_      Oh Emma... _

     Her heart constricts at the sight.

     Searing pain tearing at her gut.

_      What has this world done to you? _

     ....................

     The blonde stops in her advancement to her desk.

     Sunken dull eyes crinkling.

     Mouth curved into what seems like a permanent frown.

     Her willow frame braces.

     Hardened.

     By....life....and power.

     .....So much ungodly power.....

     The hairs on the back of Regina’s neck tingle.

     Alarm bells going off like crazy.

     ...................

     “I got into a fight with a tree,” Emma replies, voice rough, words caustic. “What the hell do you think happened?”

     .....It’s so unexpected, Regina finds herself flinching at the harsh response.

_      What the hell? _

     ..................

     The other woman sighs, and so she turns her gaze back to her, watching as she hangs her head for a moment while standing behind her desk, hands planted on its surface.

     “I didn’t mean it like that,” Emma apologizes, words weary. Lifting her chin to meet her eyes, she says softly, “I’m sorry, Regina.”

She tries to follow it with her usual impish grin.

     .....But it falls agonizingly short....

     The brunette nods.

     A lump forming in her throat.

     “I don’t need an apology,” she says. “Just an answer. Why were you out in the woods?”

     The Sheriff nods in understanding, pushing herself back up from the desk, eyes shifting to the men around them as she flexes her battered hand.  

     “I was following a lead,” she explains, motioning towards the bulletin board which now looks like some wild push pin puzzle. “Caught wind that our mysterious phantom might be hiding out in Rumple’s old cabin.”

     At the mention of the Dark One, Emma’s eyes--for the fraction of a second--turn completely black....

     Before reverting to their washed out sea green.

.....But they had all witnessed it.....

     And Regina’s bones go cold.

     .......................

_      No. _

     The once apprentice meets her former mentor’s critical gaze.

     Searching.

     Begging for a dismissive on her building suspicion.

     .....But he disappoints her.....

     With a sagging shoulder sigh.

_      .....No. _

_      No. _

_     There is no way this Emma possesses dark magic. _

_      Just....no. _

 

     “That cabin is sealed, Miss Swan,” he states, directing his attention to the perceptive blond. “With blood magic. No one, save myself, can enter it.”

     He made certain of it after he had lost his son.....

     The first time.

     ......................

     “Yeah, so I found out,” Emma grouses darkly, glancing down at her fresh wounds. “Would have been nice to know  _ before _ I got my ass blasted back into a cluster of pines.”

     “Must have felt nice to absorb a bit of that nasty black magic though, hmmm?”

     He can’t help but taunt.

     Needing the confirmation for himself.

     Unsettled...yet oddly fascinated, on how Miss Swan has turned from white, to a murky--murky grey.

     .....At the swift duck of her head--hungry orbs moving to some distant corner of the ceiling....

     He gets his answer.

_      Well then... _

 

     “You couldn’t have been bothered to call someone,” she bites back carelessly

     Feeling like she’s coming unhinged.

_      What have you become, _ she wants to scream.

     To know.

     .....So she can prevent it.....or undo it all together.

     ......................

     “You were off...researching with---,” Emma snarks right back, waving agitatedly towards Robin. Unable. Or unwilling. To call him by name. “So I went out on my own. What does it matter? I’m fine.” She raises her right hand, and with a jittery flick, heals her wounds. “See, all better.”

     .....Except it’s not....

“You could have reached out t’ me, Swan,” Hook speaks up, troubled blue bouncing from her to Emma. “You shouldn’t be going alone like that.”

     Regina hates to picture it...

     Especially after the whole stolen magic ordeal between them and Zelena...

     But maybe that never occurred here....

     .....Or not....

     If the blonde’s glare is any indicator.

     .....................

     Arms crossing.

     Every centimeter of her instantly defensive.

     Emma asks,  “So you could do what, trail after me like some whiny puppy dog? Pretend once more you can be a hero when you just fail miserably every time you do so?” Her rigid eyes pin him, despisement radiating from her gaze. “Tell me, _Captain_ _Hook,_ what you could have done out there that I can’t?”

_      .....Ouch. _

     ..................

     The room falls silent.

     Strained with resentment.

     ......Whether it’s just for the pirate....

     Or all of them...

     Regina isn’t clear.

     She doesn't like it.

     Not one bit.

     ..................

     “I’m sorry, Emma,” she breaks through their standoff.

     Capturing her attention once more.

     .....Because she needs answers.

     An explanation of some kind.

     As to how this reality has come about.

     Stepping slowly forward, she implores with her eyes for the other woman to yield.

     To bring down her guard enough to talk.

     Openly.

     Vulnerably.

     Like that night in the graveyard.

     “I’m sorry I let you down,” she sighs, shaking her head. “You shouldn’t have to go out and face something alone like that.”

     It pains her to even think about it.

     Emma off trying to save the world on her own...

     But isn’t that who she was destined to be?

     The savior?

     Forever keeping the world safe from encroaching disaster...no matter the cost?

_      ‘Then call it destiny. Because we both know I was never meant for all of this anyway.’ _

     .....................

     .....Much like Henry, the blonde’s antagonistic demeanor wanes under her soft, honest, approach.

     Eyes falling to the desk, a ringed finger unfolding to drop and drag across a groove, Emma shrugs. “It’s alright,” she mumbles. “You had your own work to do. I can handle myself.”

     .....But Regina shakes her head again.

     No.

     It’s not alright.

     And she sees now, that whatever has occurred in this world, it’s her fault.

_      This _ Emma, is of her making.

     Either by neglect...

     Or something else altogether.

     .....Either way, she has to figure it out.

     She has to bring her Emma back.

     .....And make this phantom of the woman she needs....

     Just a ghostly nightmare she’ll never be able to forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gods!
> 
> This was a pain to write.
> 
> I thought the station being the next destination of choice would be simple. Until I thought about it. And then I realized, not so much! I bounced from Regina's emotions on it, to who else could be tied in--taking special note of Hook's association with the station in New York--then to Emma's deeply rooted feelings about her role as Sheriff and Savior.
> 
> In the end, after days upon days of playing scenarios out, I concluded the main focus of the station has to be Emma's conflict on who she is, to the town, to her supposed destiny, and the cost of such a position. There is a price to seeing yourself in a role you don't necessarily trust or believe in...and this Emma...is suffering that price.
> 
> Hopefully, I will get the follow up piece and conclusion to this version of events posted in a few days so you don't have to wait another week to find out how all of this can be resolved, and the repercussions of doing so.


	18. With Another you...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer than I wanted to take in posting, but here's the follow up to the previous chapter.
> 
> <3

     Regina’s gaze drops to the finger stroking the desk.

     Brow furrowing as she notes the ring Emma is wearing.

     It’s one of hers...an old one she had charmed ages ago...

     But she can’t quite recall what for.

     “Be that as it may, dearie,” Rumple speaks up, breaking into their conversation. “We would all still prefer you not seek out elusive specters own your own.”

     The blond raises her head, eyes darting to each of them collected around her.

     Her gaze narrows.

     Body tensing once more, going straight back to defensive.

     She shoots Regina a look.

     Eyes flickering with hurt and anger.

     For what though....

     She has no clue.

     ....Until Emma snaps, “What the hell is this? Some kind of intervention?” She raises that ringed finger--the digit visibly trembling--and points irritably at her. “I told you before, I DON’T have a problem with magic!”

     ..................

     She’s too speechless to respond.

     ..................

     .....Instead, she raises a questioning brow, letting her expression say it all for her as she reexamines Emma’s behavior and appearance since their arrival.

_      By the Gods.... _

_      How had she missed it? _

_      .....How did Emma get to...to...this? _

     The Sheriff steps closer, voice lowering into a growl, invading her personal space. “You agreed to let me work this out on my own. What the _ fuck _ , Regina? I thought we were better than this. I thought I could trust you.”

     “You can,” she pleads earnestly right back. “This isn’t what it looks like, Emma, I swear.”

     Green eyes flick around, glowering at the men keeping their distance.

     “Then why are _ they _ here?”

     ..................

     What is she suppose to say?

_      ‘We come from another time? Place? Separate from this?’ _

     Obviously her and Emma have expanded on their friendship enough to share intimate details.

     .....Like addiction.....

     But are they more than that?

     .....The dislike of Robin....of Hook....suggest no....

_      Does that mean Emma has someone else then? _

_      .....Or no one? _

     ....................

     Regina’s shoulders sag.

     “I’m here because I was worried about you.” It’s a truth wrapped in so many layers. “Obviously the pirate felt the same, and Rumple appeared after you triggered the protective barrier on the cabin.” She leans as close as she can so only the blonde can hear her next words. “Trust me, Emma, I would never intentionally hurt you. Not now.”

     Not after, _ ‘I love you’. _

     ....................

     The younger woman holds her stare.

     A number of emotions passing through those almost hollow forest orbs.

     Uncertainty.

     Regret.

     Longing.

     .....Nothingness....

     “Alright,” she concedes softly, taking a step back, internal walls rising, pushing a slight distance between them. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

_      Dammit, Swan. _

     Regina waves her off, needing to move past all of this.

     Needing answers while she can still get them.

     “What’s important right now is whether or not your intel is reliable,” she says, shifting towards the bulletin board. “Did you find anything out there? Residual or otherwise?”

     Slipping back into Sheriff mode, Emma nods as she rests her hand on a map of the town, shaky fingers trailing along the edges of the border. “Whatever our new foe is, it can’t move past the barrier we erected after the last curse. BUT, it keeps pushing at it. Like whatever it’s after isn’t necessarily here in town.”

     .......................

_      Last curse? _

_      Has there been another since Snow and Charming’s? _

     ......................

     “Describe to me again what our menace looks like,” asks Rumple, taking a hesitant step closer--proceeding delicately with his words.

     Emma sighs, like she’s repeated herself one too many times already about it.

     “As I told you before, not much to describe,” she mutters, her fluctuating state of irritation rearing. “Cloaked figure. Grey magic. No visible body parts. No words.” She rolls her head, the bones in her neck popping, trying to ease the tension in her shoulders. “Who or whatever it is, just pops up, steals something magical, and disappears off to the town line again.”

_      A phantom indeed _ , Regina muses--both fascinated and concerned about the current threat to this version of Storybrooke.

     “Has it been spotted scouting or lurking before it takes something,” inquires Robin, crossing his arms, eyeing the board in front of them.

     Emma--gaze averted--focuses on the pins, answering, “No. They’ve only been seen popping in to grab what they want, and then out at the line.”

     He rubs at his chin, scratching thoughtfully at his scruff. “Our ghost is likely a familiar then.”

     All three magic users mirror the same depth of surprise at his assumption.

     A warmth of pride fluttering within Regina.

     She had no idea he had knowledge of witchery.

     They never really got to that point in their personal talks, and his discomfort--almost dislike--of her vault had left her assuming he was mostly ignorant of it all.  

     “What,” he questions at their expressions. 

     “We’re just a bit put off by your observation,” Rumple says, brown orbs glancing between him and her. “An astute one at that.”

     Winking at her, Robin explains, “Well, I know a thing or two ‘bout Witches” He focuses back on the map. “Besides, if not a familiar, then it’s a thief who knows exactly what they want and where t’ find it.”

     Regina shakes her head.

     Amazed.

_      Will wonders never cease.  _

     .......................

     “He’s right,” Emma mutters, startling displeased by the woodsman’s revelation. “I don’t know how I missed it, but every place that’s been targeted has been hit with little to no disruption.” She shakes her head, crossing her arms in self reproach. “No rooms tossed, no locks picked or battered at. Just straight up precision.” She chuckles deprecatingly. “I guess I’m not that much of a Sheriff to have missed that so easily.”

     “There’s been a lot going on,” Hook pipes up gently, drawing Emma’s annoyed gaze. “I’m sure you would have caught on in time.”

     The blond’s lip twitches.

     ....And Regina almost expects her to sneer at the man.

     .......................

     She can’t say she blames her....

     But this version of the younger woman is certainly more hostile towards Captain Jones than her current Emma.

_      Did something else happen between them? _

_      Is that why the Savior is in this state? _

_      She almost despises him on the same level as I do. _

_      ....Oh no... _

     Eyes zeroing in on the ring Emma is wearing, Regina sucks in a sharp breath.

     Catching the blonde’s attention.

     .....Sea green eyes shift from her to where her gaze is fixed....

     Then she curls her fingers in, pulling her hand down and out of sight.

     .....Tumultuous Brown snap to aloof forest.

     ...................

_      Why would I share such magic with Emma? _

_      Especially considering her issues at the moment? _

     ..................

     She pivots her attention back to the map.

     Taking the pins mentally apart and rearranging them.

     Looking.

     Searching for a pattern she can sense on the peripheral of her mind.

     Seconds tick by.

     No one talking.

     No one moving.

     Just letting her work.

     .....She remains motionless as well....

     Until the pieces start clicking.....

     And the answer hits her like a punch to the face.

    Her spine straightens, and she whirls on the blond.

     Angry.

     Hurt.

     Confused.

     Disturbed.

     Betrayed.

     “There is no phantom.”

     It’s an accusation.

     Not a statement.

     ................

     Emma stiffens.

     Back broadening out.

     Making herself imposing.

     ................

     “Excuse me?”

     “You heard me,” Regina cuts her false ignorance away with a sharp rising bite. “There is no phantom.” She raises a finger, jabbing it towards the woman. “It’s you! You’re the one stealing the magical items in town! You’re collecting!”

_      How? _

_      How could she so easily pretend? _

_      Why lie at all? _

     ..................

     She sneers at where the blonde’s hand is pocketed.

     “Have you been using the charm on me, Emma?” She needs to know.  _ Demands _ to know. “Have you been siphoning magic? Making me involuntarily compliant and then wiping my memories away?” She takes a step forward, body vibrating with building rage and hurt. “HAVE YOU?”

     The younger woman raises her chin defiantly.

     Like that day at the library.....

     When she threatened to kill her should they fail in saving Henry.

     ...................

     “Yes,” Emma answers in barely restrained fury--the word much softer than the fire burning behind it.

     ..................

     Regina explodes.

     Completely shell shocked.

     “Why? Why are you like this?” She gestures up and down wildly at the state of the woman.

_      Can’t she see what she’s become? _

     “Because it’s the only way I can survive,” Emma shouts right back, hands fisted at her side. “It’s the only way I can live in this hell hole, protecting it from one goddamn disaster after the next, until I can get out!”

     ..................

_      Trapped. _

_      That’s what she is. _

_      A confined sour knight in a cage far worse than a tower too high up to jump from. _

_      .....Oh Emma..... _

     ..................

     “How did I do this,” she questions, anguish coating her words--Robin stepping up beside her, placing a supporting hand to her bicep. “How did I ruin you so badly?”

 

     The blonde shakes her head, unsteady hands going to her hair, pulling at it as she starts to pace. “You didn’t,” she claims, but it pings enough like a lie to break Regina’s heart. “You never could.” Emma’s eyes trickle with hot tears as she begins to come apart. “You have so much here, Regina, and I’ve tried. I’ve tried to be like you.” She sniffles, holding her gaze with gut wrenching sorrow. “I have my parents, and Henry, but they don’t understand what it’s like to be misunderstood. Not the way I do, not the way  _ you _ do.” She wipes at her nose with one hand, the other yanking frantically at the hem of her blouse. “And I thought we could be friends, y’know? I thought I could be happy with that and make my life here work. You wanted me. They wanted me. Why wouldn’t I try to stay?”

     Regina swallows the bile rising in her throat.

_      ‘Are you happy?’  _

_      ‘What?’ _

_      ‘Are you happy?’ _

     ...................

     That conversation outside of Granny’s had been interrupted too soon.

     She sees that now.

     Emma had been searching....

     Looking for a reason to stay.....

     Looking for a role to play.

     A need to fill.

     .....Because she had an empty spot inside of her that had Regina’s name on it.....

    But Robin and pixie dust exist...

     And the noble idiot before her would never step in the way of fulfilling a perceived happy ending.

     .....Except her own....

     ..................................

     Regina shakes her head.

     Tears streaming down her own face. Hot, and sticky, and reminding her of that gods awful barn floor all over again.

_      I can’t. _

_      I can’t be this selfish. _

_      Not with Emma. _

_      Not like this. _

     ........................

     “Go,” she croaks, raising her eyes to meet the blonde’s. “Take everything you need, and get the hell away from this town, Emma.” She feels her soul shattering, sees hurt and uncertainty building in stormy orbs. “I won’t hold you back anymore.” She reaches for Robin’s hand, watching pain flash through the churning forest at the action.

     It spears through her as well. 

     But any affection she has for the woman is not worth this.

     .....Her love.....

     It obviously only destroys......

 

     “You deserve so much,” she asserts, chin wobbling, “much more than this.” She motions around them. “Henry. Your parents. They’ll understand. We’ve asked far, far too much of you.” She’s struggling now. The words tumbling out of her mouth between choked sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

     .....................

     Happiness is an illusion.

     A bitter lie no one can sell her.

     Not anymore.

     .....................

     She feels a presence move behind her.

     Notes the way Emma’s crinkled weary eyes dart to the added shadow.

     “So I am.” 

     Hook’s brogue startles her.

     Swiveling, eyes wide, she watches as his own blue orbs prick with tears--one breaking free to slide down a tanned cheek.

     “I should have kept my mouth shut that night.” He shakes his head, shoulders hunching, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth. “I should have minded my business. Your life is your own, Swan.” His voice cracks. “And no one has a say in it.” The only hand he possesses sweeps her way. “Listen to her Majesty, love, and go. Save yourself before it’s too late.”

 

     Like her previous encounter, the entire room fills with a new, unexpected, tension.

     Pressing.

     Buzzing.

     ..............

     She glances from Hook to Robin. Then Rumple. Wondering if they can sense it as well.

     Emma curls in on herself.

     Face hiding behind a curtain of limp blond hair.

     Regina’s breathing is erratic.

     Both from the waves of loss coursing through her.

     And the knowledge of what’s coming next.

     ...................

     It’s the shake of the younger woman’s head that acts as the needle on the bubble pushing against them

     With an ear ringing _ ‘pop _ ’ Emma stumbles, reaching out to steady herself against the nearby wall.

     She draws in a gasp of air.

     Whipping her head back.

     Fierce eyes connecting with all of theirs.

     ..............

     “Emma?”

_      Is it her? _

_      Does she know? _

     ..............

     The Savior grunts.

     Teeth grinding together in visible pain.

     .....But she nods....confirming her suspicion.

     “Regina, what’s going--” she starts to ask.

 

     .....But the invisible hook swoops in just like before.....

     And then Regina is crumbling in agony along with the men around her.

     Screaming at the scraping sensation as it drags across her bones.

     Shaking violent.

     Head practically banging against the cold floor of the station.

     ...............

     It’s much worse than the last time.

     And once everything starts to spin...

     She doesn’t resist the calling darkness consuming her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was way harder to write than I expected.
> 
> Like, once I got going, and started diving into Emma's mental state, I realized I very, very much, dislike this version of her. Not because of what she's become, but because of how easy it was to see her like this. To see the broken, dutiful, shell of a woman who stops taking care of herself in the process of taking care of everyone else until she finds herself empty and hollow and clamoring to get out.
> 
> Straight up I was disgusted writing this. I know we saw bits and pieces of this Emma on OUAT but...damn...just no.
> 
> The song that helped push me through this, and in a sense help Regina move them all forward, is Beth Hart's "Leave the light on." I can easily say there is no doubt in my mind Emma would know that song well.


	19. With Rivers of Truths...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the gap between updates and for this chapter being short. I've been trying to finish up 'Stable Boys, Heroes, Mothers and Villains' so I can focus just on this and allow myself time to write up the next adventure to that series.
> 
> Thank you for your continued interest and patience. I hope I have more to add to this soon. <3

     The ringing in Regina’s head seems to take forever before it fades into a dull hum.

     There’s something wet trickling across her lips and chin. Her skin is clammy. Her entire body feels like she’s been tossed through a clock tower,  _ again _ , and struck a live wire in the process. Sparks of something course through her nervous system, making her twitch painfully--fingers scraping against asphalt, small pebbles grinding into the skin of her forehead.

     She knows she has to move. Has to get up and check on the others, on Emma, but her heart has yet to slow down its frantic erratic pace, and she’s afraid any kind of large movement will just send her right back into oblivion. So she lays here, eyes closed, smelling and hearing nothing more than her own visceral existence.

 

*********

 

     Hook, it seems, is the first to gather his bearings.

     Perhaps it’s his centuries of misery and alcohol that have dulled him to such violet magical intrusions. Or maybe his ‘payment’ wasn’t nearly as harsh as the others. Either way, he groans--rolling from his back onto his knees--and lifts his head to take in the others.

    The thief Robin Hood is lying on his side to his right, face contorted in agony as his body shakes. He grimaces at the man’s obvious torture, but knows there is nothing he can do for him. Moving his head slowly, he spots Regina a few feet away, her body limp--almost lifeless--save for the occasional sharp jerk. He frowns, concern washing over him for the first time in quite awhile for her Majesty. Past betrayals aside, over all they’ve always had a respectful--almost caring--camaraderie. Neverland, he firmly believes, changed all that.

     Well, Neverland and  _ Emma _ .

     Heart thumping at the thought of the blonde, he shifts his gaze past Rumple who appears to be collecting himself just as quickly as he did, to find Swan lying face down opposite him--motionless.

     “Emma,” he rasps, wobbling as he crawls towards her. “Swan, wake up,” he encourages, reaching out gently to grasp her by a shoulder.

     The woman startles, surprising him, and shoves him onto his backside while rolling into a defensive position--eyes wild and uncertain.

     “Easy, love, easy,” he pleads, raising his good hand placatingly. “You’re alright.”

_      Somewhat, at least. _

     Apparently this version of the woman still isn’t fond him if the scowl on her lips is anything to go by.

     Sighing, Hook remains where he sits, and waits for the others to rouse.

 

*********

 

     Rumplestiltskin grits his teeth as he sways on his feet, body pulsing with needle like pricks of pain. He knew how this would feel. Remembers vividly his self induced demise at the end of the Dark One’s blade. The settling chill. The shuddering rattle in his ribcage. The devouring shadows. He also hasn’t forgotten the sensation of each cell sizzling like fire when he came back into being. The way his tissue and bones shook. The stitching of skin. The maddening growth of hair and teeth from liquid essence. All of it clings to him like dew...and he resents it deeply.

     Growling, closing his eyes, he tries to draw in deep calming breaths to sooth his rage.

_      Baelfire would want this. _

_      He would be proud of me for assisting the mother of his son. For bringing the woman he loved back home to her family. Back home to his grandson. _

     This is his mantra.

     It has to be.

     Or he won’t survive another journey without losing his mind.

     Really, who could have guessed Emma Swan--child of true love, Savior--could fall so far to become something so dark and...desperate?

     He can’t decide if he’s disappointed...or wary.

     Because, other realm or not, this  _ is _ a possibility. A future to keep in mind. Storybrooke, the Enchanted Forest, all versions of them in connection to the blonde woman are dependent on her choices. People think the fabric of fate is weaved independently--that their actions have but a slight bumping or trickling effect upon others. But that isn’t the case.

     No, in fact, the fabric of fate is stitched by the chess pieces of free will that force other pieces to adjust on endless tables of boards by every move they make. Most are inconsequential. A mere redirecting of a pawn. But others...others can make entire worlds flourish.

     Or dissolve out of existence.   

 

*********

 

     It hurt.

     Not like being shot with an arrow, or being tossed off a horse. Not like falling in a frigid stream or getting into a bar fight. It cuts deeper than that. Like a blade still hot from the forge slicing along your bones. It sears, burning your flesh from the inside. It coils around your soul, like a viper, and it strikes over and over and over.

     Robin believed he could do this.

_      Wants _ to.

     But he wishes he had know more about the physical strain of the price beforehand. Of the pieces of himself he was being forced to leave behind.

_      Regina. _

     He was here for her. For the...affection she possess for Emma Swan. For their son. For their family. Seeing what he just had. Experiencing that...other world, that other  _ woman _ , he’s wondering in this moment what exactly he’s saving as his teeth gnash against one another while his body quakes.

_      Or who. _

     Because, if the Savior’s noble choices can cause them such suffering now...is she any better than he was with Marian?

     Will she cost Regina the same as he had his wife? Will she take her life, unwillingly, because her destiny is to fight and protect until there is nothing left but hollowness and regret?

     What kind of man would he be if he allows someone he cares for to fall into the same mistakes? He knows his failures. His loss. His deeply rooted self hate. If it wasn’t for Roland, he would have followed his wife in death as soon as word reached him.

     But he learned instead.

     He trudged onward, heart so heavy it weighed more than his son at times, while cradling him in the dead of night. It ate at him, stealing his appetite, his zest for living, dragging him down.....until Little John picked him up.

     If not for his friend, for his Merry Men, he would have surely wasted away--leaving his child with nothing more than a shell of a father in place.

     He doesn’t want that for the brunette.

     Or the Savior--their strained association aside.

_      What good then...do I have to offer here? _

 

*********

 

     The sound of fabric scraping against the road draws Regina out of her haze.

     Opening her eyes slowly, wincing at the throbbing in her head, she flickers her slightly blurry gaze around, until she registers jeans and a jacket coming into view. Sniffing, testing her aching limbs hesitantly, she gently moves until she’s more adjusted onto her side and able to look up into the vibrant green eyes of a very worried Emma Swan.

     “Hey,” she croaks, frowning as the other woman reaches into a pocket and pulls out a handkerchief. When her brow pinches in concentration while she hesitantly moves forward, she lies perfectly still, waiting to see what the blonde intends to do.

     Surprisingly, the Sheriff softly cups her face--fingers trembling slightly against her skin--and begins wiping away the wetness that has been trailing across her.

     She tries not to react when the cloth comes away stained crimson.

     But the shot of concern that bolts through her must register in her eyes, for Emma’s own begin to shimmer with tears--her bottom lip quivering along with her chin.

     “I-I’m so sorry,” the younger woman whispers, features distorting as shame washes over them. “Regina, I’m sorry! I didn’t....I wouldn’t....” she shakes her head, closing her eyes, tears dropping from fair lashes.   

     She bites her own bottom lip, hand tentatively reaching out to grasps the blonde’s shaking above her--drawing the Savior’s torn gaze back to her own.

     “I’m sorry too,” she murmurs, flashes like a film reel of where they had just been fluttering across her mind--bringing all the emotions that had seeped into her right to the surface. “I’ve been so selfish,” she gasps, heartache punching her in the chest. “We all have been.”

     Emma hangs her head slightly, hiding those troubled forest orbs once more. Long curly locks shake as her voice rises up, “No, no. You’ve never asked more from me than what’s been reasonable.” She sniffles, head lifting slight while she focuses on something outside of them. “I’m the Savior, right? Taking care of people, protecting this town is what I’m  _ suppose _ to do.”

     “No!” The bark leaves her harshly, snapping the younger woman’s head around. She tries to sit up slightly, reaching out and grabbing onto the offered arm of support with a rumble of discomfort until she is face to face with Henry’s mother. “No, you are suppose to be _ Emma _ .” She digs her fingers into the blonde’s arms firmly, holding her in place, demanding she listen. “Do you understand me?” She shakes her head. “Not the Savior, not some child of true love. JUST Emma.”

     The Sheriff’s face falls, and it’s heartbreakingly similar to Henry’s when he’s feeling insecure and alone.

     “But without those, who is Emma,” she asks apprehensively, “but an orphan that has failed and run away from everything in life that was suppose to count.”

     Not meaning to, but unable to restrain the impulse, Regina lashes out--gripping the other woman by the chin tightly--and bringing her head up until they are eye to eye.

     “She is someone who fights when it matters,” she states fiercely. “She is the pain in my ass who pushes me to be better, who demands me to love  _ our _ son wiser. She’s the idiot who acts before she thinks because her heart--” her voice wavers, her other hand coming up to rest against Emma’s chest, “--her beautiful bright heart, is too damn big for its own good.”

     There is a river of tears falling down pale freckled cheeks.

     Tormenting her.

     Pushing her to finish the thoughts swirling in her mind.

     “Emma,” she declares quietly, “is the person I have come here for, because I can’t imagine my life without her...no matter where she goes, or who she wants to be.”

_      ‘I love you.’ _

_      ‘Are you happy?’ _

_      ‘Are you?’ _

     She’s not sure how long they are sitting there, staring at one another, closer than they probably have ever been physically outside of saving each other’s life. Or while fighting. But she doesn’t care. Right now, here in this moment, there is just her, and Emma, and honesty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch. I hope the next piece of Emma that has to be found does not require payment from Regina. I know she'd give it willingly, but the girl needs a break. Plus, go Regina! You tell that girl who she is! You make Emma realize she has options other than how others see her or want from her. Remind her of the woman she was when she rolled into Storybrooke in that yellow tin coffin.
> 
> I think Hook's putting more thoughts together, realizing where his missteps were, where Emma's were, and how Regina fits in to all of that. I have hopes then that when it comes his time to face certain things, he is able to make the right decision.
> 
> I continue to feel bad for Robin. Not where Regina is concerned in an emotional sense, but in the reality that he has the least to offer, and most to lose physically in this quest. He was never cursed more than a year. Frozen for twenty eight? Perhaps. But not cursed that long. If he gets pulled into another moment, he will be losing pieces of his life that isn't a debt owed to time. That's what makes his decision so...I want to say startling, or stupid, but I guess the best word is painful. I also think his train of though is fair. He knows what it means to think yourself a noble soul righting wrongs. If anyone can be an example of idiotically self deceiving perceptions, it is him.
> 
> Rumple...I'm worrying about you. I want to trust you. They need to trust you...but your mental state is just so....troubling.


	20. With Conviction in Uncertainty...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for such a short update. <3

     Eventually Emma withdraws, gently leaning back from Regina’s startling warm touch, rising unsteadily to her feet. She sniffles, shaking off the last of the tears trailing down her flushed cheeks. With a few deep breaths to collect herself, she reaches out and offers a hand to the brunette, helping her painfully stand as well.

     Their eyes--swirling forest and burning brown--flutter about each other’s features, restless. Wanting to linger for reasons Emma isn’t willing to process in this moment.

     It’s all too much.

     The emotions barreling through her.

     Her conflicting thoughts.

     The thrumming of something that feels like...like...strength beyond her physical body coursing in her veins. She would consider it liquid courage if she’s almost positive she’s stone cold sober.

     Whatever it is, it electrifies and expands with Regina’s touch upon her. With her stare. With her humming presence.

     Just like it all did with the Mad Hatter's hat.

    _Three years._

     That’s the difference between the woman before her and the mother of her son she last recalls knowing. She can’t just feel, but  _ see _ the differences between them carved by the passage of time. Her hair is longer, her expressions more open--earnest--in a way Emma is use to only experiencing in private.

     Except for that day at the mines.

_      ‘We have to stop this. Arguing won’t accomplish anything.’ _

_      ‘No, it won’t.’ _

_      ‘What do you want me to do?’ _

_      ‘Help me.’ _

     Her approach is the same--aggressively driven by her feelings. Her voice. Her naturally commanding tone. All  _ her _ Regina. But this woman's aura. The...pulsing essence wrapping up Emma’s arm from their brushing fingertips.

     It’s...

     Something that leaves her yearning.

     With a mix of pain...and whispered possibilities.

_      ‘You know what’s kind of crazy? Yesterday was my birthday and when I blew out the candle on this cupcake I bought myself, I actually made a wish. That I didn’t have to be alone on my birthday. And then...Henry showed up.’ _

     Before she realizes it, she’s breaking the silence with a hoarse question not directed at anyone individually.

     “How do I send you back?” Her boots scrape restlessly across the pavement as she steps fully away from Regina, brow drawn, teeth reaching out to tug anxiously on her bottom lip. “How do I return you to the real Storybrooke without me?”

     Because she has to.

     She needs to end this.

     It can’t go on any further.

     Not when the price is so high.

     “You can’t,” Rumple immediately replies, glancing behind him briefly at the grunting forest man struggling to get to his feet. “There is no going back now that we are here without completing the task at hand.”

     “And I won’t return without you,” Regina adds vehemently, for the second time in less that five minutes.

     “Aye, neither will I,” adds Hook, drawing Emma’s gaze with a frown.

     She doesn’t understand the look he keeps giving her.

     It compounds everything that already has her reeling.

     It's filled with a longing she’s hesitant to name. It makes her heart thump hard in her chest with increasing distress. Reminding her (yet again) of a man she once knew long ago. A thief in the night who stole more than just her heart before breaking it--irreparably so.

      _No. Not again. Never again._

     She shakes her head, returning her attention to Rumple and Regina--Robin of Locksley coming to stand shakily beside the older woman. She doesn’t know the guy. I mean, she gets the reference, she recalls who Robin Hood is, but she doesn’t understand who he is to Regina.

     Because he’s obviously  _ something. _

     A person she’s quite clearly familiar with.

     And it just....

     Rattles her ribcage with a mixture of hurt, distrust, curiosity...and flaring jealousy.

_      Three years. _

     It’s all too much.

     Too much.

     “I don’t care.” The words are harsh. She knows it. Even as her tone waivers on them. 

     Regina’s eyes flash dangerously. A warning that Emma struck a nerve that’s about to go off. She glances at her, eyes pleading for her to listen. To understand.

    _To see, dammit!_

_      Can’t she see? Look at where they had just been! That--that future, real or not, cannot happen! _

_      It’s too much! _

     “This is my mistake,” she argues before the brunette can start. “My price. I should be the one to fix it, to pay it. Not,” she gestures at them in racing frustration, “you!”

     “If we left you be, you would never return,” Regina spits right back, face contorting into a sneer even as fresh tears enter her eyes. “You would be stuck here, foolishly,” she chokes, body visibly tensing. “And I WON’T allow that!

     “Maybe that’s the way it’s suppose to be,” she explodes, eyes wide, chest heaving. “I obviously made this choice for a reason!”

     “NO,” the older woman shouts, stepping into her space, yanking away from Robin who reaches for her. “I refuse to believe so!”

 

     Because, even though Emma doesn’t know--can’t recall--Regina does.

     She hears it.

_      Feels it. _

     Ringing in her head.

_      ‘No, you don’t get to do this! You don’t get to sacrifice yourself for me!’ _

_      ‘Then call it destiny. Because we both know I was never meant for all of this anyway.’ _

     And she won’t repeat that.

     Not again.

     Not in however many lifetimes together they have.

     She’ll be damn if she settles for anything less.

     Than getting Emma Swan home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew.
> 
> I needed this. Not just for the characters, but myself. A head cold kicked my ass to the point I lost my mental space with this. I've been struggling to figure out how to get everyone back into the correct positions, including my own emotions, thought process, and interpretations. I feel like this is a good stepping point--one to push Regina to be a bit more revealing, to help guide Robin into a better level of understanding. To attest to what Hook is suspicious of.
> 
> And to give Rumple something Regina doesn't really want him to know.
> 
> So far, all the chapters in this piece have been outside considerations of Emma. It was finally time to step into her space and see how, at least this version of her, feels.


	21. With Honest Clarity...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another update! We're hitting the homestretch. Two more chapters, possibly three, and then...well, you'll just have to see ;).
> 
> On to the story!

     “That’s it, isn’t it,” Emma whispers into the false Storybrooke as her and Regina stare one another down. “That’s why you’re here.”

     It’s like a crippling crack in armor revealing the hidden wound beneath.

_      ‘Maybe that’s the way it’s suppose to be! I obviously made this choice for a reason!’ _

_      ‘NO! I refuse to accept that!’ _

     The once famed Evil Queen curls her upper lip in a slight snarl, detesting the assumption. But she holds her tongue. Refusing to deny as equally as she is to confirm--still staring the Savior down.

_      Fighting against the truth, _ he can’t help but think.

     And Robin’s heart tightens.

     Because the fear and worry he has for Regina...isn’t a  _ ‘what if’ _ possibility. It’s a fact that has already occurred. The young blonde thief--a bit like himself--no. Wait. Like  _ Marian _ .

_      I got it all wrong. _

     His gaze bounces between the two women with sudden sharp awareness.

     Regina’s not the one left to suffer. No.  _ Emma _ has been the one to do so. The one who stepped up to protect the brunette, to STOP her from making a foolish choice.

_      ‘Regina,” Snow asks, her voice trembling. “Regina, where is my daughter? What happened here?’ _

_      ‘Gone,’ she replies in a devastatingly weak voice, her face pressed into the body of her son.’    _

     The sparkling magic heavy in the air and on the ground. The stifling weighted unknown of an event--so tragic--it brought the most powerful woman he has met since his wife to her sobbing knees. The determination. The heartache. The fire. The emotions she stood spitting into the night wind.

_      Oh Regina... _

     The thought that’s been plaguing him so begins circling his mind once more.

     That these  _ mothers _ border between friends and lovers.

     But--as he sees the way Emma’s eyes flicker with uncertainty before she finally turns away, shoulders hunching, brow furrowing--perhaps that border was erased last night....

     He knows what he would have said had it been Marian.

_      ‘I love you.’ _

     Even if he’s said it in infinite lifetimes, boundless ways.

_      ‘I love you.’ _

     He swallows, throat thick on choked feelings. 

     Maybe he can’t protect her...but he can right this wrong. These two women have already suffered one wrenching loss after another. It’s time for love to stop taking, and start giving back, to a set of resilient hearts--the likes of which he has never seen before.

     Until now.

 

*****

 

     There is a distant echoing  _ click, click, click _ , in his head.

     One that has the palm of his right hand instantly burning. 

     Rumpelstiltskin glances down, looking at his shaky fingers, face pinched in haunted pain. Suddenly, his heart develops this double beat-- _ tha thump tha thump, tha thump tha thump _ \--and his face stings with the phantom suggestion of harsh bristles.

     It’s the way Regina’s glaring at Emma.

     The  _ magia _ swirling between them with compounding thoughts, and expressions, and gut tugging affection. It’s tickling his own. Pulling at something that feels like a far off memory...

     But not one that belongs to him.

     He doesn’t even register the change in the people around him, until something bright and yellow catches his eye. Glancing to his right, he sees a familiar hideous volkswagen beetle unexpectedly sitting against the curb just feet away.

     No one has moved.

     A mix of surprise and dread contorting their faces.

     But something is compelling him. Drawing him forward. Urging him, like the harsh whispers that torment his mind, to reach out...and touch it.

     So he does.

     Among shouts of “No, don’t! Wait!”

     Someone takes a step towards him. He’s not sure who. But it’s too late. The instant his hand settles on the roof of the car, everything flashes around him.

     Instantly, he’s no longer standing on the sidewalk. No. He’s on a familiar path deep in the woods of this crused town, staring at Emma...

     As she says, “Neal, what the hell are you doing here?”

  
  


     They’re talking about him.

_      Correction. _

     HE’S talking about himself. As his son. In Balefire’s body.

     They are discussing her search for him. The veracity of his return. His state of mind. Her unease.

     “Well he can’t be far, c’mon” he’s urging, turning to walk further into the forest. Sensing, like a ghostly touch, the hope burning within that he’ll be found.

     It’s worse than being locked in a cage.

     There are no bars to rattle.

     No voice of his own to scream.

     Just bones and flesh out of his control, leaving him an unbearable participant AND witness to a past moment between his child and the woman he loved.

_      Oh Gods. Why here? Why now?!  _

     Emma gives in to Bae’s pleading, muscular frame leading them deeper into the thick, ignoring the damp chill clinging to their jackets.

     He’s anxious that he’s alone for this.

     No one else to be seen.

     The others, he presumes, silent observers like he had been when Regina first stepped into her house. She, however, was in her own body. Yet, with every step he takes, following the Savior, he’s reminded that in this situation, he was indeed present.

     Just unaware.

     Trapped, like he is now.

     “So New York, huh,” Bae says, trying to strike up a conversation. A well of...yearning, burning in his heart for the woman who is an intimate stranger.

     “I liked the pizza,” she replies, breath puffing out in front of them.

     “Did Henry like it?”

     “He loveees pizza,” Emma drags the word out, amused at their child.

_      Their boy. _

     He’s smiling along with her, the lines in his face pulling tight. “I meant living there, in the city.”

     She seems surprised by the question, glancing at the ground, watching her step, then sweeping her gaze around them. “Oh yeah. I did too. I mean, we had time to do all the things we normally couldn’t.”

     “Like what?”

     She shrugs. “Like, go to the park. See a movie. Go to the zoo. Just do nothing. Life was good.” Her eyes dart his way. “Really good.”

    He can feel his skin warming. This flush of tenderness rippling through him.

     He never knew.

     Never understood the natural compassion his son possessed. But,  _ oh _ , does he feel it now. Recall it. Revel in it.

    “It didn’t get lonely? Just the two of you?”

     He’s not looking at her. But he can sense her hesitation.

     She waits a beat. Gathering her words.

     He feels his son bracing himself.

     “Henry had tons of friends at school. And I had...someone.” She’s apologetic. “Sorry.”

     It’s Bae’s turn to shrug.

     “Why are you sorry? Of course you did.” He’s startled how much his son means it. The depth of understanding. The reasoning, even as a sharp pain pokes his fragile heart. “It’s not like... we were...” His words fall awkward. Thickening the air between them. “Or that you even remembered.”

     Emma chuckles in understanding.

     “Was it serious?” He’s curious to know as well. Having not been caught up on events during his...absence.

     “He proposed.”

     “Wow...”

_      Indeed. _

     “And then he turned into a flying monkey.”

     Emma’s looking at him. Gauging his reaction to her words. Just like his Bae, he’s shocked at the absurdness of the situation...but then he remembers  _ who _ they are.

     “Sounds intense.”

     And they are laughing. The tension between them breaking. An overflowing of fondness passing between them.

    “Go ahead and laugh,” Emma says, looking at him with a happy light in her eyes. “I almost married a monster from Oz. Hilarious.”

     He’s wavering her off. One upping her. “I almost married an evil minion of my grandfather Peter Pan.” She’s chuckling loudly now. It’s like music to his ears. “So I know what you’re saying.”

     They’re coming down a small embankment. Her a few steps ahead of him. Her feet more assured than they were just moments before. Reminding him...no,  _ Bae _ , of when they were younger.

     He sighs, watching the way she moves along, determined. Headstrong. Full of life. 

     “Hey, I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

     She looks at him, surprised. “Really?”

     “I care about you, Emma,” he tells her as they step in unison over a high root. The sincerity of the words reverberating along his skin. “I always will.” He takes a few extra strides to get ahead of her so he can stop her in her tracks, turning around to face her. “I just want you to be happy. Even if it isn’t with me.”

     Those words.

     The honesty within them.

     The truth of their core.

     Squeezes his soul.

     Emma smiles at him. Eased by his confession. Charmed, perhaps, by his openness. “We were happy. Once.”

     “We never found Tallahassee.”

     He doesn’t understand the meaning.

     But the shift in the Savior’s gaze tells him it means something rich between them. Like the chipped cup that he holds so dear. It’s a reflection of something deeper. Something that once was. That could have been...or could be...if only.

    He feels overwhelmed by the need to reach out to her. To touch her. To ground them in this moment.

     ...But then the world is shifting... 

     Emma’s forest eyes turning from sentimental to agony.

     And he’s yanked out of this meaty vessel.

     Thrust into the cold.  

_      What the devil...?!! _

     Before he can process, or even act, everything is spinning...until he’s looking down. Holding his son’s hand. Staring at his limp body.

_      Oh no. Oh no no no! Bae! BAE!! _

     It shatters him all over again like a bullet to the brain.

     Emma’s holding to his son tightly. Tears streaming down her face. The necklace he had given to her clutched like a death grip in her hand.

     There are words ringing in his ears. The love behind them so devouring it hurts to even breath.

_      ‘True love, is sacrifice.’ _

     The pathway of tears staining her cheeks crimson are crushing. Like rivers, they gouge out the plains, permanently scarring their landscape.

     This is what  _ they _ share.

     This pain. This loss. This anger. This frustration.

     Her eyes lift from Bae, and strike his with that familiar bubbling pressure. Pushing against him. Compressing on his state of self.

     Like the future event they had been previous players to, the world buzzes and buzzes with oppressiveness. Building. Searching its climatic point.

     And then...

     It pops.

     Both of them gasping. Sucking in air, sobbing in mutual relief and anguish.

     “Why,” he pleads, eyes shifting from her, to Bae, and back again. “Why this?”

     It’s too much. Too personal. Too unfair.

_     Haven’t we all suffered enough? _

     “Because he was right,” Emma swallows, gaze fluttering about. Searching. Aching for something...or  _ someone _ beyond her sight. “True love,” she sniffles, eyes burning, “is sacrifice.”

     Like he’s unexpectedly falling, it grips him--the  _ real _ reason they are here--yanking him down, leaving him to collapse onto his son.

     Understanding he doesn’t want is tearing through his core.

_      Why? Why now? Why like this? _

     Emma knows now.

     This Emma gets what she has done.

     And she doesn’t even flinch when the loud clanging starts. Doesn’t grimace in torment like he’s doing as that gods awful hook comes along to scrape against his bones. She just sits there--staring at Bae--with alarming clarity. Waiting for the inevitable, all consuming, darkness.

 

*****

 

     When they return, Emma remains seated.

     Her arms empty.

     Rumple lying curled on the ground beside her. 

     The only thing that moves is her gaze. Shifting from the Imp to the false town, before finding Regina, and locking on.

     Killian watches with wet cheeks as they stare at one another. His own blue eyes unwavering. Forcing himself to bear witness.

     It’s not like minutes before where they were yelling. Screaming their pain. No. This is a conversation of like minds. Like people. Like... _ hearts _ . They’re saying, with their tortured stares, what they won’t speak aloud. 

_      Perhaps reliving last night’s events at the barn. _

_      Or a dozen other moments before that. _

     Either way, it brings a fresh new trickling of tears down the Evil Queen’s own cheeks. The lines on her face widening in hurt. Pleading. Asking Emma to see reason. To acknowledge the emotions behind the lengths they have gone to retrieve her.

     To listen.

     Not with her mind.

     But with her soul.

_      ‘True love is sacrifice...but it is also...hope.’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gods.
> 
> What a gut punch! But yet so...so...beautiful.
> 
> This pulling, this defining moment of Neal dying is like ricochet. I think, for all involved, it reminded them how precious life is. How powerful love can be. How tragic, and hopeless we sometimes feel when we aren't reaching out for one another. When we don't remind ourselves what we have. What there is to keep going on for.
> 
> Me writing this while I'm pmsing was most definitely not the best of times. Lots and lots of tears. Still...I think this is one of my top moments yet in this story. Because Emma knows. She's pieced together enough now to make a new choice. 
> 
> Find the last two elements she needs to return home?
> 
> Or hold to the sacrifice she made and force everyone to leave without her?


	22. With Another Me...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bloody hell, this chapter was a beast!
> 
> But onward we go!

     “I can’t take it anymore,” Hook mumbles, shaking his head, gaze flickering between Regina and Emma. The pain in his chest too hard to bear.

     The torn apart almost lovers shift their lingering stares his way, but he’s lost to the tear marks on his own cheek. To the death of Milah’s son. To the ‘what ifs’ like that first kiss between him and the Savior in Neverland. To the many tried and failed chances.

     True love’s kiss in New York...that didn’t work.

     And the cursed kiss here that stole the blonde’s magic.

     Every world they have seen so far has been some twisted--bastardized version--leaving them each hurt and empty.

     Except the first.

     The one where Emma was her once--young--true self.

     That Swan held humor and fire in her gaze. Confidence in her posture built up from heartache, instead of being torn down. That one took risks...and encouraged them to this place.

     “Why are you so afraid to hope,” he asks, tortured eyes meeting sea green with anger and hurt. “Why are you so bloody insecure, Swan, to take a chance on your own yearnings?”

     He stomps towards her, chest rising and falling in growing frustration. “I believe in you,” he confesses as Emma scrambles to her feet--eyes shiny and uncertain--but aware of the connection they share. “I willfully trust you. You are a woman impossible t’ forget. So much so, that I opened my heart t’ a possibility of an us.”

_      Oh, what a fools errand it had been. _

     Her pink lips part to speak, lines around her hazel orbs widening in conflict.

     But he suddenly turns his head away, unwilling to listen to whatever she may protest, to face a Queen as dark as himself.

     “And you,” he growls, receiving a glare, “I trusted you enough to bring us here. T’ save Emma from herself!” He points at her, finger as sharp as the sword he had sacrificed. “But I never thought the Evil Queen too much a coward to claim what  _ clearly _ wishes to be hers!”

     Whiskey eyes widen at the accusation. Dark painted lips falling apart in shock.

     “Yes, your Majesty,” he sneers, “my eyes are open. I’m not the fool you claim me t’ be.”

     “K-Killian,” the Savior stutters--interrupting the confrontation--reaching for him.

     He shakes her off, however. Her touch burning. Her fear so strong it’s permeating the air around her like the stench of decay.

     Head swinging about, he catches the forest thief’s stare for the briefest of moment, and--oddly enough--finds the same resolution in eyes that are a shade of his own.

     “Enough of this! No more lies! No more hesitating!” Gaze shifting from Robin to the makeshift town, his frantically flickering orbs land on a structure he’s spent more than one night longingly looking in to.

     Nostrils flaring, he pushes past the two women, their mutually surprised gasps echoing in his burning ears. Stepping over the almost lifeless body of his former nemesis, he strides--determined--towards the place where it all began. To the tables and chairs claimed by a family clinging unseen to one another in his mind’s eye. To everything he’s about to willingly lose.

     To Granny’s diner in the distance. 

     Its neon sign lit.

     Its door handle glowing.

 

*****

 

     His gut is coiling with impending dread. His heart pounding hard in his chest. His skin starting to become slick with sweat. But he  _ owes _ this. Not just to Emma, Regina, or their shared history.

     But to the powers that be.

     To the fates and Gods of old he has cheated, murdered, stolen from time and time again for selfish--destructive--desires.

     To the love _ HE _ once had.

     To the hope of finding it again someday.

     ...If ever at all...

     “Killian! Please, just wait a minute,” Emma begs, running after him, hand reaching out once more to spin him around. “You don’t know what will happen!”

     “Oh love, but I do,” he snaps right back, blue gaze narrowing at the trepidation etching itself across her face. He moves into her personal space, so close their lips could touch if he really desired it. “You love her.”

     It’s a statement, so intimate, that she takes an unconscious step back.

     But he takes another forward, following after her, refusing to let her run anymore.

     “You love her,” he declares again. “You sacrificed yourself for her!” He shakes his head, eyes sweeping, gesturing to the facade surrounding them. “And she you! That’s why we are here after all, Swan. To get you  _ home  _ where you b’long!”

     Emma’s shoulders hunch even further at the revelation, her own head shaking--eyes glancing once to Regina who is hesitantly approaching--before coming back to meet his knowing gaze.

     “As true as that is, It’s-it’s not as simple as--” she prevaricates.

     “YES IT IS,” he shouts, cutting her off, earning a warning ‘Hey!’ from the nearing brunette quickening her pace closer. He leans in, barely a breath apart. “It’s time to stop being a coward, Swan! Face your fears! Embrace the possibilities before you!”

_      Take what is yours! _

     For a second, he sees that familiar fire within her rear up--challenged.

     And his heart thumps hard with a flicker of prospect.

     But As soon as Regina is within reach...that tinder quickly burns down to a smolder. Suppressing itself. Smothering. Unwilling, no matter how wanted, to pursue without absolute certainty.

     “COWARD,” he screams, driven by the madness that they may never escape. Tearing himself from her lingering grasp, he reaches out for the glowing door handle of the small shop. “This can only end one way, and y’know it!”

     No one moves to interrupt him.  

     No one speaks an objection.

     Or a nagging appeal.

     Emma and Regina finally stare on--maimed by their weaknesses--allowing silence in the passing emptiness to be their acceptance. To terrifyingly embrace the truth they cannot shake away.

_      Good. _

_      Good. _

     Closing his eyes, he feels a hitching in his chest--like a skipping beat--as his hand makes contact.

     ...And then everything is spinning...

     Shifting and reshaping. Ringing like someone is clanging a bell. Until it all comes to a stop, righting itself.

     ...And nothing looks different at all...

     He’s still on the steps to Granny’s. Regina standing perplexed just a few feet away with Robin.

_      No. _

_      Emma. _

_      Emma was beside her. _

_      Wasn’t she? _

     Head twisting, he scans the streets behind the former queen.

     “Emma,” he calls out, panic starting to grip at his veins. “Emma!”

     Realizing the same instance he does what has transpired, her Majesty swings her own head about, concern blossoming across her features.

     He opens his mouth again to call out for her, heart racing wildly.  _ Why isn’t she here?! Where did she go?! _

     But he falls mute as a husky voice suddenly tickles his ears.

     “Looking for me?”

     A shiver passing down his spine, making his legs wobble a little like he’s been at sea too long, he turns his head slightly back, and comes face to face with Emma...

But not  _ their _ Swan.

 

     Eyes as dark as midnight, hair as white as snow, skin as tanned as a flame, she stands against the door he’s holding--filling the small distance between he and it in decadently fitted black leather glory.

     “Oh Gods.” He stumbles back, jarred by the horrific transformation.

Hands clasping casually in front of her, the Savior tilts her head in a disturbingly familiar fashion, and gives a chuckle that makes the hairs on his body lift in chilling despair as it reverberates out of her chest.

     “Hello, Killian,” she husks, leaning forward, locking eyes with him. “Like what you see?” 

     Blood red lips part in mirth to reveal sharp white teeth.

     Swallowing the lump rising in his throat, he takes another cautious step away from her, moving closer to a dumbstruck Regina and Robin. 

     “Well.” Emma’s smile turns predatory, a hip pushing out in cocky fashion, a dark brow rising. “A girl does love it when she can leave a crowd speechless.”

     And then she’s waving her hand, a cloud of dust consuming them all in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. This is me screaming at my screen for Emma to stop trying to send Regina and the others off. For her to quit making sacrifices as a gesture of love like it's an easy escape. For Regina to stop trying to bring Emma home without divulging the depths of her love. To quit hiding it behind friends and co-parents. To stop using Robin as a beard.
> 
> This is Hook sharing our madness, yelling into the winds of change none of these characters can avoid...well...couldn't. Until the new Emma Swan showed up :/. This might be a mistake on all their parts. One forgets who may also become 'aware' in a moment, and change the course of events because of it.
> 
> Blakwall's cover of "Come As You Are" really drove this chapter forward. Especially since I had to write it 5 times just to find what I was looking for.


	23. And the Devil of Our Deeds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, another update! I hope you enjoy this as much as I do :D things are about to get fun and epic!

_ You take the shape of _

_ Everything that I'm drawn to _

_ You take the shape of _

_ Everything that I'm drawn to _

_ But your eyes _

_ Are dead and red, red as rust _

 

_ Do not try me Devil, Devil _

_ Cannot buy me Devil, Devil _

_ You won't make a fool of me, oh no _

_ What makes you so special, special _

_ To think I would ever settle _

_ For that devious dance between me and The Devil, Devil _

 

_ “Devil Devil” - Milck _

  
  


     When the magic that swept them up begins to fade, Regina, Robin, and Hook find themselves in a semi-circle just yards away from Granny’s Diner looking down at the still motionless body of Rumpelstiltskin.

     Shaken.

     Confused.

     “What the hell is going on,” Robin hisses, eyes darting about the false Storybrooke. “How are we still here?”

     “I don’t know,” Hook murmurs warily.

     She’s about to give a speculation, when Emma seamlessly shifts into existence on the other side of the Imp, startling them--her head tilted as her gaze curiously roams over the prone figure.

     “Who took the dead man for a walk,”, she inquires, but there is no familiar warmth, frustration, or concern flowing behind it.

_      Dead? _

     Regina swallows heavily at the sight of Henry’s mother--fear chasing desire chasing dread along her nerve endings. Making her heart constrict as her eyes lock on to the Savior. 

     Emma’s striking white hair--length as short as her’s use to be--is slicked back. A leather jacket with side zipper that seems to ripple in color from black to blood-stained red under the flickering of a distant street light hugs her upper body. Painted on charcoal jeans with calf gripping matching heeled boots stretch the younger woman’s athletic frame, making her appear commandingly tall.

_      Regally so in rebellious fashion. _

     But the air about Emma is agonizingly intimate.

     Wetting her dry lips, she tries pulling her heart back into her chest--pounding so loud in her veins she’s sure it must be torn and exposed in front of the others. She can taste the dark magic lingering on her painted pout. The tingling of it tickling the tip of her tongue, coaxing suppressed wants to hum in stimulated delight at the back of her throat.

     Her nostrils flare and her ribs rattle with confliction.

     This...Emma...This...woman, is a hauntingly beautiful personification of everything that her deepest self has ever secretly fantasized about.

     Their shared volatile personalities. The mutual fight and hunger for control. Their distinctly different--yet strikingly similar--levels of sexual predatory dominance.

     THIS is her Dark Swan.

     But...something is off about her...

     Something...ungodly sinister.

     “I’m sorry,” she asks in strangled emotion. Trying to gather her bearings, to understand this version of Emma and the scent of power lurking around her. 

     Blown pupils like that of a shark lift to meet her gaze, and she feels a shiver run down her spine as they contract--then shrink--to reveal shimmering circling shades of jade and turquoise.

     “It’s kind of foolish, don’t you think?” Emma says, eyes narrowing, chin rising slightly in contemplation. 

     She squares her shoulders as she shakes her head--offended and perplexed. “Excuse me?”

     “I don’t know what new game you’re up to, Regina,” the Savior carries on, shifting from one foot to the next like a sleek animal settling, “but you should quit while you’re still ahead.”

_      What? Game? _

     “The only one playing here is you,” Hook accuses, interrupting them. The muscles in his face tighten in anger. “What the hell is this?” He gestures towards her new appearance. 

     Emma’s gaze shifts his way, brow furrowing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

     “Like bloody hell you don’t,” he growls, his hook shaking in frustration. “I know a crocodile when I see one!”

_      WHAT?! _

     “No,” she gasps, eyes darting from Rumpel, to Emma, and back again. A sharp breath squeezes at her lungs, pain shooting like a bullet through her heavy heart.

_      No! It can’t be! HOW?! _

     “You’re a Dark One,” Robin whispers beside her in shock, his hand reaching down reflexively to clasp her own in mutual dismay.

     Intelligent orbs follow the motion.

     A flicker of a sneer ghost across red lips.

     “THE Dark One,” Emma corrects, voice cold and rigid like ice. She drags her stormy eyes away from them--and for the first time--shifts her attention to the false Storybrooke. 

     The instant disorientation, confusion, and then recognition pass across those breathtaking features, her heart is shattering to the pavement beneath her feet.

     “Where am I,” demands this Dark Swan sharply, magic flaring in an arc around her, making the air sizzle with static rage. “What is this place?!”

_      Oh no. _

_      ‘Living is self awareness in a conscious moment.’ _ Rumple’s words from before start ringing loudly in her ear as Emma steps over his body, closing the gap between them.  _ ‘Hold true to that. Otherwise, you may slip away, never to return.’ _

     “Where,” the younger woman hisses, their faces inches apart--hard eyes locking, “am I?”

 

*****

 

     “The...,” Regina pulls in a ragged breath. “It’s an in between.”

     She could have lied. IF they had been transferred to another reality or past like before, she simply would have played in. But something has gone wrong. Very wrong.

     If there is one thing she knows about Dark One’s after all her years of dealing with Rumpelstiltskin, it is that they exist in multiple spaces at once. Each one of them a tether of the other that is an absolute.

     Simply put, this Dark Swan,  _ is _ Emma.

     ...Just not their current Emma...not yet....

     But one day...

_      By the Gods...what have we done?  _

     “Ah,” the blonde leans back, her eyes glossing over, head doing a slow--more absorbing--swivel of their environment. “An inflection point.”

     “A what,” Hook asks, regaining her attention.

     Those deadly eyes do a slow perusal of him, making jealousy flash across her skin.

     “An inflection point,” Emma repeats, glancing down at Rumpel, nudging him with the toe of her boot. “An apex or moment along a path where a dramatic change of direction occurs.” She moves her gaze to where Robin still holds her hand, and wrinkles her nose. “Though I see not everything has completely shifted.”

     Like being burned, they yank apart.

     “What was the occurrence,” the Dark Swan inquires as she steps away, meandering into a slow stroll around them.

     “A sacrifice,” she replies, watching intently as the blonde moves about, hands drifting behind her back to link fingers together. 

     “Mine?” Emma pauses. She nods. The younger woman hums in thought. “A significant diversion for sure.” She raises a finger like the Imp use to. “One sacrifice a lifetime is more than enough.” His natural inflection coat the words, making the hairs on her body stand up in unease. Then the former Sheriff chuckles, and they all have to resist the urge to turn away in torment. “Appears that old adage holds true after all.”

     It’s like a phantom of the man lying by their feet lives on inside this Emma. Similar mannerisms and word play echoing out with each growing gesture and conversation.

     Her stomach rolls, and she can’t decide in this moment what is worse. The previous alternate future Savior broken down and addicted to magic trapped in a town she desperately wants to leave?

     Or this one?

     “Y’know he was right,” the blonde states, coming to a stop in front of her. “We are entwined.” Jade and turquoise caress over her with barely contained yearning. “Where you go, I shall always be.”

     Her throat goes dry at the confirmation. The longing. The possibilities and hope that flicker with the need to be aflamed.  _ Hen to pan,  _ she thinks as Emma stares a moment longer. _ The all is one. _

     Indeed, they are a true Ourobori.

     “Alas,” Emma sighs, shifting her capturing gaze from her to something in the distance behind them. “I can’t let this event continue playing out.”

     “What?” Her disbelief is echoed by the men on either side of her. Unsure they had heard the blonde right.

     “Sorry,” the Dark Swan shrugs. “Whatever you are trying to achieve here can’t come to pass.”

     “We’re trying t’ get you home,” Robin argues, taking an agitated step forward. “Back to your family. Back,” he motions at her, “to the woman you love!”

_      ‘I love you.’ _

     It rocks her how easily he says it aloud. How strong his conviction is behind the words. Considering--after all--who they had been, or were growing to be, before all of this.

     Emma laughs. Laughs! Right in his face, and she feels hurt tangled with humiliation sweep through her like a rolling tide.

_      ‘I love you.’ _

     “Regina loves the idea of me,” the Dark Swan counters, her humor rapidly dissipating to resentment,. “But the reality of it?” She shakes her head. “Not worth the effort.”

     ..................

     Being slapped across the face would have hurt less in that moment.

    _‘I love you.’_

     “Are you fucking kidding me,” she explodes, hands balling up at her sides, her own magic rearing to life. “Don’t you DARE make assumptions about how I feel!”

     “Please,” Emma sneers, taking an intimidating step towards her, eyes going black, “you wouldn’t even be here in the first place if I was wrong.”

     She’s rocked speechless by that.

     Mouth left hanging open in gut punching astonishment.

     Never.

     EVER.

     Has she felt her world turn so completely upside down as it is doing right now.

     Heart thumping like a drum in her head, she rears back, embarrassed and fragile as tears gloss over her eyes. The damn of every insecurity within her lets go in a turbulent magical wave of loss, affection, and rage--sending the street lights into a sparking frenzy.

     .....Until an unexpected explosion rocks them all on their feet.

 

     Three heads swinging about, Hook, Robin, and her watch as the Charmings’ apartment lights up like a lantern, rays of white and red pulsing in quick successive flashes.

     “What the hell,” Hook shouts, shooting her a questioning look.

     Everything within her is pulsing with magic and emotion, like she’s caught up in the midst of a storm. Everything...but this burning--glowing--chord in her chest. One that feels like there is a pair of scissors scraping against the threads holding it together.

     It tightens, and tugs, and pings with a kaleidoscope of memories and sensations.

     Emma’s expressive eyes.

     Her original flowing blonde locks.

     That mouth of hers that can lift her whole face with a twitch into mischief or volatile rage. Her strength. Her compassion. Her fire. Her love.

_      ‘I love you.’  _

     “You’re not my Emma,” She growls in dawning awareness, snapping her head around to glare at the Dark Swan. “You’re just some bastardized version of her!”

     “No,” the younger woman agrees, meeting her heated gaze. “But I was suppose to be, and I intend to be the only one, after I fix this little mess of course.”

     The next blast of magic comes out of nowhere.

     But not from her.

     Unprovoked, and unblocked, it sends her flying across the pavement until her back cracks against the door of the yellow bug with denting force--slamming her head into the window, shattering it.

     Before she can collect herself, every cell in her body alit with magic and pain, she’s being yanked across the street again in a cry of agony right up into Emma’s open hand where it fits perfectly around her throat.

     “I’m sorry,” the Dark Swan whispers conflictingly for an emotional second, their lips almost brushing, “but I can’t let you stop me.”

     The words drift around her in a haze as a heavy darkness suddenly begins to descend, forcing her eyes unwillingly closed, pushing her flailing consciousness into a deep--oblivious--sleep.

     She’s out before Emma loosens her grip.

     Falling, unprotected, to the ground below.

 

     The moment Regina collapses he’s running.

     Not to her. Not at the former Sheriff. Not towards the pirate.

     No.

     Robin’s running for the vault. The one place, as any good thief would know, where magical practitioners store their most precious of artifacts. He can hear Emma Swan calling after him. Expecting him to stop or be dissuaded by her threat of violence. But even as headstones start exploding around him--debris flying into his face, forcing him to dodge and weave about--he carries onward, legs pumping.

     He hears a cry of pain behind him, one no doubt rung out by Hook, but he doesn’t break stride.

     Breath coming in short pants, he spots the door of the mausoleum begin to glow and he prays--to any deities possibly listening--that his hopeful assumptions will pay out. 

     Lowering his shoulder as another wave of magic barrels at him, trying to push him off course, he focuses on the large knob, and groans as he reaches out the same time a sharp piece of ricocheting stone strikes him squarely in the ribs.

     His fingers wrap around the hot metal as all breath leaves him.

     And then he’s vanishing.

     Fading away like he’s made of sand caught in a wind.

     To reappear, disoriented, inside the vault seconds later.

     He gasps at his success, and the searing pain rippling along his side. Taking a moment to situate himself, he lets his eyes adjust to the dimly lit candles, before seeking out a telling sign of his next step.

_      C’mon, where is it? Give me something. Anything! _

     When he can breath with only moderate discomfort, he staggers back onto his feet, swaying slightly. His other hand--not covering his busted ribs--reach out to a nearby table to steady himself.

     He jumps, however, at the feeling of something long, frigid, and jagged sharp beneath his fingertips. Hissing, yanking his hand away, he turns and looks.

     Coming to face with a twisted ornate dagger.

     The name ‘Emma Swan’ carved into the ore of the gleaming blade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark Ones. Can't trust them, but can't live without them.
> 
> Maybe.
> 
> Besides "Devil Devil" the other song that really moved me in making this chapter was "When the Sun Goes Down" by Tommee Profitt ft. Laney Jones. To me, they both describe everyones feelings towards this Dark Swan. Especially Regina's gut wrenching--torn apart--emotional upheaval at having the woman she loves becoming the personification of both her desire, and her dread. They also help in expressing how serious this Dark Swan must be taken. She's not the season 5 creature OUAT made. No, this one (I hopefully captured in my descriptions) is a beast with fangs it fully intends to use.
> 
> She makes my toes curl just a bit ;).
> 
> But Damn, she isn't playing around!...Or is she? I swear, with these Dark menacing foes, it's impossible to tell what their intentions are. Obviously, the moment she became self aware they were fucked. Or did she deliberately travel here? I mean, Regina did say early on in this series that Rumpel could easily do this quest on his own being immortal and all that.
> 
> And, if this is a future Dark Swan Emma who is interrupting their process to save her existence, where is our Emma?


	24. Tearing At Our Seams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little something <3
> 
> Enjoy!

_ Does the wolf apologize _

_ When it stands on top? _ __   
_ Does the wolf apologize _ __   
_ (Does the wolf apologize) _ __   
__   
_ Should the lion say his grace _ __   
_ When he takes his mark? _ __   
_ Should the lion say his grace _ __   
_ (Should the lion say his grace) _ __   
__   
_ I do what I need to  _ __   
_ What I have to  _ __   
_ To survive _ _   
_ __ (To survive)

 

_ “Stay Alive” - Epic Pop _

  
  


     "You don't want to do this," Hook gasps as her fingers wrap more firmly around his heart.

     "You don't know what I want," Dark Swan mutters, eyes glaring in the direction Robin Hood has disappeared to. 

     He winces, trying to alleviate the pain in his chest by gripping her forearm, forcing her to bend slightly so he can rest his knees more easily on the road beneath him. No question crosses his tongue why she aqueices. Instead, he draws in a ragged breath and stares up at the woman who is not his Savior.

     “Why?”

     A painted brow twitches, but her lips remain silent.

     “Why do this? Why choose the darkness?” Pulling in another battered breath, he glances to the limp Queen beside them, her features pained even in magical slumber. “You're wrong about her," he tries to argue against earlier words.

_      ‘Regina loves the idea of me. But the reality of it? Not worth the effort.’ _

     “If not for her love for you, we wouldn't be here now, Emma!"

     Her lips quirk then. But not in contemplation.

     "Do you know how many lifetimes I have seen," she growls, turning her attention solely to him, bringing their faces but an inch apart. Cold angry eyes penetrate his own. "In every one of them she's picked someone else over me." He grimaces at the absurd notion. "And in each of those I am sacrificing myself for  _ her _ !"

_     ‘This is my mistake. My price. I should be the one to fix it, to pay it. Not you!’ _

     Silence passes for a beat--two, three--as he tries to gather his thoughts. The fingers in his chest not digging harshly into his organ, but neither letting go.

     "I don’t believe that,” he finally states, shaking his head, gritting his teeth as his chest burns with the movement. “Didn't she sacrifice herself first,” he questions with imploring eyes. “If what your boy has told me is true, Regina gave her life to bring you and your mother back after we first met. When you,” he gestures between them, “were supposedly still enemies." Her eyes shimmer for a second, as if recalling the incident. “And didn’t she attempt to sacrifice herself a second time, with that whole end of the world bit before Neverland?” He wheezes as a roguish smile breaks across his tormented face the same time tears blur his vision. “If not for your need t’ be a hero, Swan, she’d have died tryin’ to save you!”

_      ‘Emma,” Regina declares quietly as they sit facing one another just feet from him, “is the person I have come here for, because I can’t imagine my life without her...no matter where she goes, or who she wants to be.’ _

_      ‘You love her. You sacrificed yourself for her!” He shakes his head, eyes sweeping, gesturing to the facade surrounding them. “And she you! That’s why we are here after all, Swan. To get you home where you b’long!’ _

_      ........................ _

     They’re both startled when another explosion goes off--again from the Charming’s loft. His gaze follows hers the best it can, and he begins to wonder about the woman who has a grip on his most vital part.

     "Y’know what I think?” She’s not looking at him, eyes focused intently on the chaos, but he knows she’s listening. “I think you've let the power of the Dark One misguide you.” He stares her building fury down as she shifts her flickering orbs back his way. "I think you're still running, Swan.” He pushes himself up just enough to bring their lips centimeters apart. “I think you're still a coward,” he sneers at the word, “just like Rumpel was."

_      ‘It’s time to stop being a coward, Swan! Face your fears! Embrace the possibilities before you!’ _

     Her nostrils flare.

     The life in her eyes fading to hollow obsidian

     “I think,” she mutters, so low it feels like a ghostly caress, “that I was a fool to ever bring you back from the dead in my timeline.”

_      What the devil...?! _

     He tries to jerk away from her at the unexpected revelation, crying out in agony as she holds him steady, bringing him closer so her lips can press icily against his cheek. 

     “Say hello to your brother Liam for me,” she whispers, the words ringing like a harbinger in his ear.

     “Swan...” is all he gets out in forewarning before his words leave him.

     Then he’s flying.

     The false Storybrooke rushing by him as he goes sailing through the air, buildings whizzing past him as if he’s an arrow on course, before striking hard against turbulent waves that didn’t exist.

     Until now.

     Air escapes his lungs in a strangled gasp the same time water begins to quickly flow into his open mouth. Shocked, weighted by an unseen force, he struggles against the churning water--bubbles blooming as his head sinks lower and lower below the midnight tainted surface. He claws at the pressure pushing him down. Desperate to break free.

    But it’s no use.

     As the seconds tick by--choking more and more on the essences of his livelihood--he feels his mind start to drift. With each erratic beat of his heart, hopes and dreams of the woman he was getting to know flash before his eyes, filling him with longing and regret.

_      Oh how I thought I could save her! _

_      Save myself in the process! _

_      Foolish man I am! _

_      Foolish, foolish, dead man!   _

 

*****

 

_ Does the devil get scared if she dies in her dreams, where the earth burns? _

_ She cries cause she's nothing like you, is she like you? _

_ What you want from a devil like me, devil like me? _

_ You see the devil don't mean to be evil, he just regrettably forgets to exceed expectation _

 

_ Holes riddled in your head, little bit of lead _

_ Shake it out and line silhouette _

_ Miss me when you, you wish weren't kind of glad _

_ Shake me all out when you're done, for you, for you _

_ Shake it all out when I'm gone, I, for you _

 

_ “Devil Like Me” Rainbow Kitten Surprise  _

  
  


     “I wouldn’t if I were you,” she calls out as he races once more through the graveyard--gate slower with his banged up ribs.

     Robin ignores the Dark Swan though, dashing off towards the docks where he saw her toss the Captain as he emerged from Regina’s vault.

     The blade bearing the Savior’s name bound to his other side.

     What little he knows of  _ witchcraft _ and artifacts makes him feel confident that the oddly curved dagger holds weight against this twisted imp. How exactly, he’s unsure.

_      But I’m going to try nonetheless.  _

     A wave of magic pushes out against his frame, just like last time. But instead of attempting to disparage him away from fetching the pirate before he drowns, it suddenly coils--grabbing him by the ankles--and yanks his feet out from under him.

_      Ooof! _

     He grunts as he hits the ground with a loud thud, his teeth clicking together as his face strikes hard on pavement.

     Ears ringing from the concuss, he rolls with a groan onto his side, unsurprised to find the dangerous woman striding towards him with malice in her eyes.

     “You are a pathetic pain in my ass,” she grits out, words as sharp as the tip of the knife tickling against his hip. “What the hell Regina  _ ever _ saw in you, I will  _ never  _ understand!”

     “Perhaps,” he gasps, staggering as quickly as he can to his feet, meeting her head on, “a companion who embraces all she has t’ offer.”

     It’s exactly the right thing to say to stop her in her tracks.

     But the wrong words to utter as fisted hands begin to sizzle with unrestrained power.

     “You give her nothing,” Dark Swan jeers, lifting her chin, dead eyes sweeping over him in disgust. “You’re a poor thief. A horrible hero. And a barely functioning father.” She smiles menacingly. “The most you have ever offered her in all the realms I’ve seen is a body to cry over when your corpse is left rotting at her feet.”

     He bristles at the insinuation. A nerve deep within him plucked like the string on a bow.

     “And yet it’s you she’s been mourning over for a day now,” he quips right back, satisfied to see the amusement on her face fade into a mask of false indifference.

     “I’m not dead yet,” she argues with a mettle edge.

     “No,” he agrees, slowly pulling his jacket aside, revealing the blade nestled against him with a smirk, “but you could be.”

     She doesn’t take a step back.

     But her rigid posture retreats as she sucks in a sharp breath, eyes going wide in alarm.

     “Where did you get that,” she demands in a harsh whisper, unable to look away.

     Hearing the desperate splashing that had captured his attention just a moment ago unexpectedly go quiet, he glances towards the docks. “Save Hook first. Then we’ll talk.”

     Hackles raised, she snarls at the command.

     Daring to test her, he places his hand on the weapon and repeats. “Save the pirate.”

     An instant later the sound of something heavy breaking surface rattles into the stillness, and then Hook is plopping like a wet log between them, retching water from his sodden lungs.

     “Now the blade,” Dark Swan requests, hand out as if he’s just going to give it over to her. “Before I strip the skin from your flesh like an animal hide.”

     The air about them thickens with rage--magic snapping and crackling.

     He doesn’t budge.

     Just stares her down.

     Waiting her out.

     Until a rasp behind them boldly dares, “Don’t.”

 

     None of them move.

     Her body visibly tender, Regina lets loose a shuddering breath and steps out from behind the younger woman--completing a triade with Killian Jones in the middle. Brown eyes ripple with a myriad of emotions, darting from him, to the once Sheriff, the Captain, and back again. Trying to decipher what has been transpiring during her sedated absence.

     When her eyes land on the dagger tied to his body, her pupils contract, and magia circles them like a dragon waking.

     A third eruption, this one more intense than all the others, shakes Storybrooke--distracting the once Savior long enough for Regina to wave her hand and vanish Hook from sight.

     “Go,” she encourages him next, head tilting towards the Charming loft. “Run!”

     He hesitates for a second, eyes imploring.

_      Stay safe! _

     She nods.

_      I will. _

     Then he’s jogging across the street, the Evil Queen and her Dark Swan facing one another on an even battlefield.

 

*****

 

     “You used magic on me. Again.”

     It’s a statement that smolders in her very soul. Swelling her anger. Making her spine rigid--defensive.

     Emma, however, only casts her eyes after Robin, watching him go with contempt.

     “LOOK AT ME when I’m talking to you,” Regina snaps, eyes darkening with fury.

     “Or you’ll what,” the younger woman taunts, shifting her beady gaze back to her. “Punish me?”

     A delicate brow lifts in consideration.

     “Is that what all this is about?” She wrinkles her nose at the assumed petulance. “Retribution for whatever future misdeed I commit?”

     “You have NO IDEA what I’ve been through,” Emma barks right back, taking a threatening step forward. “What I have endured because of you!”

     “THEN TELL ME,” she shouts, matching her stance.

     Squaring off.

     Just like they use to.

     When the younger woman first came to town.

     But the bitter half of her Sheriff simoly laughs, shaking her head. “I don’t think so.” A knowing gleam enters hazel eyes. “You forget, Regina, I’m smarter than you ever gave me credit for.”

     “Not smart enough if you’ve allowed yourself to be consumed by such dark magic.” The retort wipes the haughtiness from the former Savior’s face.

     Replacing it with hot indignation that makes her tanned features flush.

     A hard fist is swinging a second later as the words, “You should know,” literally jab her in the chin. The impacting  _ ‘crack’ _ , turning her sideways with inertia.

     Not, surprisingly, breaking skin like it should.

     She chuckles darkly.

     Then rights herself.

     Before hitting the blonde square in the jaw as she hums in agreement. “Yes, I do.” She motions at the outfit encasing an athletic build while Dark Swan stumbles, hand rising to her wounded face. “You even borrowed my sense of style. Though,” she taps her throbbing chin thoughtfully, “I would have gone with a little less eighties rebel if it were me.”

     “IF it were you!” Emma’s pupils dilate with frothing mania, her body trembling as she lashes out, using magic to toss her across the street, skidding her along the pavement. “IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE YOU!”

     She kneels for a moment--heels of her boots burning--catching her breath. Her hammering heart holds silent for a beat as the woman’s verbal outburst hits her in her respite.

     “What?”

     She lifts her head, eyes wide in dawning awareness.

     “I took on the Dark One’s curse to SAVE YOU,” Emma explodes, hands sweeping wildly in despair, igniting a row of turbulent fire on either side of her. “Rumpel had it pulled from him, but it needed a vessel to survive!” She stomps towards her, pace like an approaching thunderstorm. “It’s a living entity, a parasite that has to leach on to a soul!” Tears, for the first time, begin to trek down dusky cheeks as the former Savior comes to a stop, towering mere inches above her. “And it chose YOU, Regina! YOU!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Dark Swan really isn't messing around.
> 
> I mean, who hasn't wanted to drown Hook once or twice? But if not for Robin, dude would be chilling with Davy Jones--and I don't mean the musician.
> 
> However, I don't understand why she's not directly attacking Robin. Not before the possession of the dagger, and not after. Does she know something we don't?
> 
> I'm tired of her and Regina screaming their failures at one another. It was time to smack some sense into one another. Quite physically so :). Perhaps this is my way of expressing that love has to be fought for, or fought with, in order for them to survive all of this.
> 
> Ooooh...maybe I shouldn't have said that....


	25. My Wonderwall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're hitting the homestretch now on this. Maybe 2--3 chapters at most left for this little tale.
> 
> :) Thank you for coming along this journey with me. I can't wait to see what happens next!
> 
> On to the story! <3

_ [previously] _

_      “I took on the Dark One’s curse to SAVE YOU,” Emma explodes, hands sweeping wildly in despair, igniting a row of turbulent fire on either side of her. “Rumpel had it pulled from him, but it needed a vessel to survive!” She stomps towards her, pace like an approaching thunderstorm. “It’s a living entity, a parasite that has to leach on to a soul!” Tears, for the first time, begin to trek down dusky cheeks as the former Savior comes to a stop, towering mere inches above her. “And it chose YOU, Regina! YOU!” _

 

_ ***** _

 

_ ‘And all the roads we have to walk are winding _

_ And all the lights that lead us there are blinding _

_ There are many things that I would like to say to you _

_ but I don't know how _

_ Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me _

_ And after all, you're my wonderwall’ _

 

_ “Wonderwall” - *Natalie Lungley ( Cover ) _

  
  


     “Of course it did.”

     She hangs her head, shoulders sagging, the fight leaving her just as quickly as it had stirred.  _ Why wouldn’t it? I’m the perfect candidate. The darkest heart, next to Rumpel’s, in all the realms.  _

     Her Swan remains towering over her--chest heaving with ragged emotions, eyes glistening with tears--shadow consuming what little light this false Storybrooke surrounding them can spare. Her heart constricts in her chest. Squeezing painfully. Reminding her, once more, how deep her emotions for the broken Savior go.

_      Enough. _

_      I’m done. _

     “This is how you’re going to stop it, isn’t it.” She sighs, lifting her chin to meet frayed features. “This constant cycle of us breaking, and fighting, and forging together again and again.”

     Her white haired goddess bites her lip, nostrils flaring--visibly swallowing, pushing against the torrent shaking her frame--and husks, “it’s the only way we have any chance.”

     A barking wry chuckle escapes her, making her rock slightly on her knees as she sweeps her gaze about--life here still as sterile as a frozen painting.

     It disgust her as much as the reason for this facade in the first place.

_      Sacrifice. _

     “You mock my effort.” Emma’s words are bitter, and that pout she’s resisted for the last four years frowns--angry and hurt.

     “No,” she replies sharply, meeting haunted hazel eyes with a bearing stare. “I have NEVER, not ONCE, mocked what you have endured for me.” She pushes up onto her feet, coming boot to boot with the younger woman. “Idiotic and unnecessary as each loss and suffering has been,” she wets her lips, her voice going soft, “I’ve never discredited them.”

     Reaching out with hesitant shaky fingers, giving into her too long ignored want, she finally allows her delicate digits to grasp lightly at the open lapels of the Savior’s jacket--a tremor coursing through her at the action.

     Her nails dig into the leather with a hitched breath, pulling her even closer to her Dark Swan. It feels daring and terrifying all at once. Like the nights she use to steal away to ride Rocinante in the twilight of the moon where her mother couldn’t stop her from feeling  _ free. _

     Her pulse is literally thumping, matching the erratic rhythm she can see beating against the skin of the other woman’s lean neck.

     They’ve rarely been like  _ this. _

     Close and exposed without their anger or fears sharpened. Silent. Seeking.

     But oh how she’s desired it.

     Ached for it in the most desperate of moments.

     “E-Emma,” she rasps, the name sounding so loud in the tiny gaps between their barely touching chests. “You must stop this. You must.” She sucks in a shuddering breath. “You have to _stop_ ,” she tugs slightly on the material within her grasp, “torturing yourself for me. “ Her eyes well with budding tears, heartache pressing against the roof of her mouth. “I can’t take it anymore,” she breaks in a sob. “I can’t keep seeing you like this!”

_      I can’t keep losing you in the name of love. _

_      That’s not what ‘I love you’ means! _

     Hands, shockingly soft and tender despite their roughened look, gently settle on her forearms. Wrapping--like the Sheriff has done countless times before--around her flexing muscles to hold her attention.

     She  _ quakes _ at the sensation.

     Magic rushing between them.

     Flushing with dizzying, buzzing, electrical currents.

     She suppresses a whimper. The tingling racing from her fingers down to her toes and back to nestle within her spine. 

_      By the Gods, it’s always been this way between them. Hot. Intoxicating. Lively! _

     Nothing, and no one, has ever compared to Emma.

_      Ever. _

     The fingers clasping her forearms flex. She lifts her troubled gaze back to her Dark Swan, and holds the raw stare waiting for her.

     “A dozen lives in a dozen realms and you are still trying to tell me what to do,” the younger woman murmurs, and her lips quirk in affection. Emma’s chest stutters as it rises and falls beneath her touch--before the Savior clears her throat--and finally has her say. “I sacrificed myself in my timeline because I can’t keep watching you being yanked back to the darkness each time you rebuild a piece of yourself.”

_      Oh Emma... _

     She opens her mouth to retort, but Henry’s mother silences her with a raised brow.

     “Over and over again I have watched you be punished, unnecessarily so, for crimes long served.” Her Dark Swan shakes her head, voice breaking. “I can’t keep doing  _ that, _ Regina. I can’t watch the stones under your hand crumble each time you claw your way out of another dire hole!” Her yearning urges her closer, surprising them both as she traps their curves together. “YOU have to accept yourself for who you are! Love yourself! J-just as much...” Emma stumbles on her words, pink lips wobbling centimeters from her own. “Just as much as I do!”

 

*****

 

     Hook heaves the last of the water from his lungs. 

     The splattering of mucus and salt against metal and wood making him cringe, turning his head away. He pants, body weak, and collapses against the door of the Charming’s apartment. Jarring it with the dull clocking of his head against its frame.

     If not for Regina. Robin. He’d be a dead man.

     Eyes rolling up to the handle too far above him to exert the effort to reach, his throat rumbles gutterly in defeat, and he hangs his chin until it rests wearily against the chipped paint exterior of the door.

_      Bloody Swan. _

     He should have let her be.

     No good has ever come from his own hands.

_      Liam. _

_      Milah. _

_      Baelfire. _

     He’s lost them all at the expense of what... _ love? _

     A wet hysterical snigger bubbles up from his throat--along with a hacking cough--and he’s on his side, spittle dribbling from his lips as he tries to catch his breath. There’s a sick rattling in his ribcage, and he closes his eyes, letting himself go limp.

     His hand, unexpectedly, rests over his struggling heart, and Emma’s parting words echo in his soggy ears.

_      ‘I think, I was a fool to ever bring you back from the dead in my timeline. Say hello to your brother Liam for me.’ _

     Was it true?

     Is there another him out there, in another life, finally at ease with his departed family? He’s thought about it often. Especially when he returned to Neverland. But he’s always been afraid. Terrified of the weight of his crimes once they are passed against him.

     And the look on his brother’s face.

_      Liam. _

     He’s not the young hopeful lad he had once been. No wet behind the ears sailor with a sparkle of the oceans in his cerulean blue eyes anymore. Alas, he’s but a washed up  _ Pirate _ .

     A rat.

     A devil with a hole in his chest.

_      Oh my brother, what you must think of me now. _

 

*****

 

     Robin’s knees are digging into each step.

     His throat parched.

     Core wheezing 

     The adrenaline that had been keeping him going is barely lifting one limb after another as he climbs the staircase up towards the loft Snow White and Prince Charming call home. His ribs are radiating in agony, the hilt of the blade digging--scratching--at his flesh.

     But he must keep going.

     Regina’s life, her heart, depends on it.

_      I will not fail her. Not like last time. _

     The pain of that loss to Zelena continues to cut him deeply. Just like their first kiss, tainted by the tears that drowned Regina’s beautiful amber orbs.

     He should have seen it then.

     The love seeping from her pores.

     He had  _ felt  _ it. Hungered for that attention and affection deeply. Except...he was just a placeholder. A tentative trial, perhaps, for a woman who would always been a Queen missing another kind of thief.

     He can’t argue how wonderful a love story it is.

_      If not, however, for the Dark Swan. _

     Unexpectedly, he cracks his shin on a stair lip, and he grunts in frustration, stopping to rub the bruising appendage out through a muttering of curses while glaring at the remaining planks above his head.

_Gods be damned!_ _Why do they have to live so far up?_

     “Wh-who goes there,” suddenly calls a sluggish voice from the high partition.

     He frowns. “Hook?” The swashbuckling gent sounds ever worse than he’d seem minutes prior. “Are you alright?” He forces himself forward, gritting his teeth against the exhaustion dragging his body down. 

     “N-never bett’r,” grouses the other man as he slowly comes into view.

     “Liar,” he croaks, taking in the listless position of the Pirate against the door he’s been crawling towards. “I’ve seen nicer corpses.”

     A coarse laugh tumbles out between them, and he collapses--dropping his heavy build beside his uncommon accomplice. 

     “Regina sent you eh?”

     He nods, eyes lifting to the door handle above them.

     Hook shakes his head, those murky baby blue orbs of his following his gaze thoughtfully. “What a mess we’ve made,” the Pirate murmurs.

     He hums in agreement.

     “We’ll fix it though,” he assures, patting the blade that’s chafing.

     “Not without Swan.”

     The words are soft and forlorn. Twisting his gut. 

     He opens his mouth--tongue feeling sour--to feebly remind them both the Dark One Regina’s currently facing down is not the Savior they had come for. Not yet.

_      But perhaps...    _

     The hard surface supporting them startlingly  _ ‘clicks’, _ before opening, dropping them surprisingly backwards with a hard  _ thump _ before they can even brace themselves.

     Blinking.

     Confused.

     Both men look up.

     And come face to face with a red jacketed Emma Swan staring down at them.

     “Took you long enough,” she grumbles, the air about her glowing with chaotic light magic. “Where the hell is Regina?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About time Emma and Regina!
> 
> Gods! Talk about taking for ever to make that kind of vital connection and acceptance. I've been in need of some declarative action with warm fuzziness--like the perfect slushy with moonshine in it... ;).
> 
> Whew.
> 
> Well, Hook seems to be a bit of a Debbie Downer right now. But then again, he always is. He's been doubting his faith in everything he knows, pushing against truths, poking at death since he lost his brother Liam. Honestly, I think this is how Hook sees himself.
> 
> And Robin. Well, he's just that struggling wanna be hero, isn't he. Everything he's wanted has come to pass. An escape from the Dark One. A sanctuary. A solution. A controlled defiance. An opportunity. An answer.
> 
> Hell, if I didn't know better....I would say everyone is getting exactly what they are 'seeking' in this situation. Even Rumpel.
> 
> I don't trust it. Not one bit.
> 
> Do you?


	26. This Life's Yours To Take

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An incredibly short update. I'm sorry about that. But I want to move this story forward, and this scene has to sit on its own as all the characters fall into place like pieces on a chess board in the next.
> 
> Enjoy?

[previously]

     

     The hard surface supporting them startlingly  _‘clicks’,_ before opening, dropping them surprisingly backwards with a hard  _thump_ before they can even brace themselves. Blinking. Confused. Both men look up.

     And come face to face with a red jacketed Emma Swan staring down at them.

     “Took you long enough,” she grumbles, the air about her glowing with chaotic light magic. “Where the hell is Regina?”

 

*****

 

_ Good, Bad, Have, Had _ __   
_ Time is all that we’ve got _ __   
_ Love, Hate, Gold, Fame _ __   
_ Take whatever you want _ __   
__   
_ Curse the light,  _ __   
_ day is the Cowards plight  _ __   
_ Don’t need the sun to rise _ __   
_ Your soul leads the way _ __   
__   
_ Heroes rise,  _ __   
_ legends were born to die _ __   
_ You'll live through the words they'll write _ _   
_ __ This life’s yours to take

 

_ “Take” - The Rigs _

  
  


     “I don’t care who the fuck she claims to be, it’s not ME,” Emma growls, stomping rapidly down the steps of her parent’s apartment building with Hook and Robin dragging themselves at her heels.

     “But in a way it is, love,” Hook rasps, gritting his teeth--wincing in his struggle to keep up with her.

     “Like an evil, darker, version of yourself,” Robin adds, catching the exterior door to the building as she lets it fly back without care.

     Sneering at the hidden insinuation, her stormy eyes dart down the street where she can see two distant forms standing intimately close together. The visual isn’t at all what she expected, and it makes her blood boil with hate. 

     “I thought you said they were fighting!” She snaps back--their gazes looking warily from her to Regina.

     Hook shakes his head, sighing, able to clearly read the jealousy, hurt, and rage fluttering across Swan’s features. A bubble gurgles in his chest, and he turns away to spit more fluid out of his lungs. The blonde wrinkles her nose at the act, but he gives her uncaring glare.

     “Perhaps things are more dire than we realize,” Robin mutters, and Emma’s fingers curl into tight fists--magic vibrating off her skin like electrical currents.

     She doesn’t care who the woman is.

     Imposter.

     Evil doppelgänger.

     Future self.

     Whichever it may be, whatever she’s trying to do with Regina, stops now. She didn’t sacrifice herself, fight and plead with her son’s mother, just to have the woman she loves be swept off by some bastardized version of  _ her _ .

 

*****

 

     There is a maelstrom of emotions sweeping between them, cocooning them from their false surroundings. It’s echoing past conversations in varying whispers against their ears--tickling their nerves, poking at their senses with words like,  _ ‘You are NOT my savior!’  _ and  _ ‘No, I’m your friend. I’m your partner, the mother to OUR son!’. _

     Screaming.  _ ‘No, you don’t get to do this! You don’t get to sacrifice yourself for me!’,  _ followed by a cry of, _ ‘Then call it destiny! Because we both know I was never meant for all of this anyway!’. _

     Among it all, they are tethering--wrapping their bleeding feelings like threads of rope together. Tightening their strained bond. Reconnecting, with their bodies flushed, and their stare unwavering.

     “I love you,” Dark Swan rasps a little sturdier even as her body trembles beneath majestic touch. “In every lifetime, in every realm, I have loved you.”

     The tears that once stained Regina’s cheeks are fading, being replaced by an open glow of affection and magic. Sniffling, she sinks her digits deeper into their leathery hold, and lets her nose brush ever so lightly against the other woman’s.

     “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you,” she husks, the corner of her mouth struggling with the torn desires to hold back her truths, or confess them all. “That night, as Henry ran off into the house, all I could do was stare at you. Captured by the  _ beauty _ , “she whispers reverently, “of a young woman so full of life.”

     “I thought you were the hottest mom I’ve ever seen,” the blonde retorts, hands slipping from the brunette’s arms to settle firmly on her hips. “Then you were the hottest bitch I’ve ever met.”

     Regina growls at the remark, but her eyes shine bright with knowing--wicked--delight.

     She  _ had _ been a bitch that first year.

     Pushing Emma. Taunting her. Teasing her. Thrilling herself with each wild response in return. It had been a glorious, heated, dance that made her come alive like nothing before--short of Henry. They clashed with hatred and respect. Manipulated and snarked with want. Lied, cheated, and stole whatever they could from the other just to have their attention.

     They had _ burned. _

     And then...

     “Get the hell away from her!”

     The shout startles them both, breaking their mutual attention away, and towards the source.

     Regina gasps.

     Surprised, and disturbed, to see another Emma....her Emma? Standing just feet away, glowing with unrestrained magic and rage.

     “Savior,” the midnight carbon copy in her arms suddenly sneers--stiffening beneath her hold.

     The other blonde doesn’t bother with a verbal response.

     A blast, like a flaming fireball, suddenly shoots out of the younger woman--striking Dark Swan hard, sending her flying back into a nearby lamp post.

     “EMMA, NO,” Regina shouts, stepping between the two--bewildered.

     But the charged version takes a threatening move forward anyways to lash out again, while her other half rumbles out curses--quickly scrambling to her feet. 

     “Get out of the way,” Henry’s mother requests tightly, eyes focused solely on the figure behind her. “She’s not me, she’s just an imposter!”

     Before she can even respond to that, a bolt of lightning whizzes past her ear in the next second, striking said Emma--sending her reeling backwards with a frustrated cry. Turning, the Evil Queen takes in her Dark Swan, and watches, as the woman she had been moments away from kissing, goes frighteningly cold with approaching malice.

     “Wrong, deary,” the rebel blonde hisses, eyes flickering to disheartening black, “I’m the only piece of you that’s real!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Emma might have some "me" issues to work out.
> 
> Everyone else has faced different versions of her. Have been heartbroken, torn, left wounded by the varying Emma's they have come across. Now it's Emma's turn. Her biggest obstacle in getting back home isn't Regina, or Hook, or Robin, or even Rumpel. It's herself.
> 
> The question is--Which Emma will survive this encounter?


End file.
